*This article was written by our sorta friend Todd Dakin. We like Todd.
My roommate Randy and I have ants. No, my roommate Randy and I have Spartan warrior ants. They don’t die. We spray and we spray. They are legion… and I am now convinced that they are of some new government breed… with adamantium exoskeletons. Let me go back a little bit though and give you a story to better elucidate the scale of their might and cunning. The story below occurred about three weeks after Randy and I eradicated every ant from our kitchen. Our collective mood was understandably quite proud.
There I was in the grocery store, just picking up the essentials; bread, coffee, and pinot grigio, when I realized; our apartment is completely devoid of any snack food. Now I don’t put much stock in the practice of snacking‚Ķ in fact, I find eating in general to be a rather tedious task, but lately my palette has been lacking variety so I took a trip down the snackables aisle. Disillusioned by the uninspiring selection, my excitement was turning into surrender, and I was about to give up when something caught my eye: Goldfish Crackers. This cracker made up roughly 85% of my diet in college and, needless to say, I was pretty excited about being reunited. I was so excited in fact, that though I started for the small pint sized bag, I caught myself and ended up opting for the carton. You know, the huge box that’s intended for polygamous Mormon families with 18 children. The good thing about this box is, once you finish it (if you can even manage that feat), you can turn it on its side and it doubles as a freaking coffee table. Anywho, I pick up the carton, tremulously lift it into my cart, and go home. That night about 10:00 rolled around and Randy and I found ourselves in decidedly snacking moods‚Ķ and snack we did. They were delicious. So the next day I’m in class and I receive a text message from Randy: “They’re back. Yeah, the ants. They’ve taken over the goldfish crackers.” Those scheming arthropods. I have to admit, they got me good. I slipped up. I got cocky. I thought I’d destroyed my bottom-feeding adversaries‚Ķ and that’s just what they wanted me to think. They waited until I was most vulnerable and then they flanked me‚Ķ and they got me where it hurts‚Ķ the Goldfish Crackers.
As of late I’ve employed a new method of defense. Two days ago our kitchen counter was covered with the little guys so I sprayed some industry-strength cleaner on them and walked away. The way I see it‚Ķ having to trudge through the corpses of their friends and family members should lower their morale a bit. It’s actually kind of working. The only downside is you have to keep dead ants all over your kitchen counter‚Ķ not the most aesthetically appealing sight. Plus, they aren’t completely gone, they’re just fewer in numbers and considerably more depressed.
So what to do about ants? Give up. There is nothing you can do. They are stronger and more intelligent than you and they will only destroy your life if you ever try to stand up to them. Trust me. Give up.
*this article was featured on October 26, 2007
