Dear army of 500 ants that conveniently infiltrated my bathtub at the time of my shower,
I apologize for killing you. It seems as though you were lost, so I kindly sent you down the drain to the first floor, ground floor, which is where you belong - on the ground outside. Get out.
Don't worry. Your efforts of infiltration were not in vain. Your kind cousins exercised their painful practice of blood vengeance via my drying towel. I am in pain. My skin itches and burns. Please go away.
Had I been in the Amazon's Sani Lodge, I would have eaten you immediately as a glorious snack - tasting just like sour patch kids - but with Vitamin C.
I am now forlorn. And itchy. And in pain. I think I'm allergic.
I hate ants.
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