Picture this: you come home from a magnificent day hanging out with friends, you're in the BEST mood ever and then... it all crumbles...
You come home, strip of your outside clothing into your birthday suit, ready to enjoy the nudity; YOU have to offer, get ready to deposit the clothes when all of a sudden...
you notice some ANTS crawling about near your laundry basket aka your emergency food basket...
you think "fuckin fuck!" and prepare for battle by simply moving the food, BUT WAIT! These motherfuckers have had a lot of time on their antennae.. and as you move the food...
They brought generations worth of an ANT army!
You panic immediately because now there's ants in/on your precious food and your undies!
So... do you burn your clothes? or yourself?
You counter-attack they asses with some POISONING!
Do keep in mind your clothes will be affected but..
lucky for them you quickly separate the basket from food from ants; GHETTO TOSS your food (RIP) and begin; LITERALLY begin sorting thru to weed out these fucks..
You think you've won dont you? Just spray them and all is right with the world; aye?
*LAUGHS IN ANT*
These generations of tiny bitches SCATTER! Only cuz they been spotted..
As you move fast you're able to murder them for the scum that they are. With each spray, their bodies freeze and shrivel up as if they're frozen in time. Much to your delight!
"Stay dead, pussy ass bitch!" You say victoriously!
You then mop up the dead bodies with a moistened baby wipe and lovingly gaze at the carcasses. Hellz yeah!
After all that, you put your clothes basket away (sorted & cleared of FORMICIDAES!) and then relax near your box fan (cuz killing insects IS HARD WORK!)
and begin chilling, watching your favorite YouTube vids, and... begin writing your story about going to war against ants..
Picture this; literally after all that jazz with the ants... your mind begins to play tricks on you.
As you relax in peace (to an extent) you constantly look up to see if they're still here.. lurking.. plotting revenge... you see nothing.. stop worrying!
You start feeling itchy..
"Those marks and dents on the ceiling look like they're moving...."
Your mind is just as much of a piece of shit as you are irl...