While vacuuming tonight, I found a pile of dead ants. Like…60. While I’m mostly just glad they were dead and not crawling over me while I sleep, they were crumpled up, holding their little tummies with their middle arms. (Don’t you now feel bad for thinking ‘ew, gross’ during the first sentence?)
This leads me to one inevitable conclusion: mass suicide.
I’ve spent the evening wondering what they discussed in their last minutes together.
Ant 1: Hey guys, where’s the queen? Anyone seen her?
Ant 2: I touched her with my antenae this afternoon. She seemed fine.
Ant 3: What’s that sound? Sounds like a mountain crashing? It’s coming from another room.
Ant 4: I’ll go check it out.
Ant 5: I think I’m going to start going by Jack. I think Jack seems like a good name for an ant.
Ant 3: Not cool, man.
Jack: Not cool, Jack.
Ant 1: Anyone seen the queen recently?
Ant 3: Don’t go individualizing, Ant 5. That is bad. Pretty soon we’ll get free will, then anarchy, then end of times. Ancient Mayan ants predicted that this was the year.
Jack: Those Mayan ants were stoned on liquids obtained from tiny grains. I like the name Jack.
Ant 3: No, no, it’s true. End of days and shit. Everybody panics, zombie ants come back and cut us in half with their scissor-like mandibles.
Ant 2: Who says mandibles? WTF? We only have 250,000 brain cells. Where did you learn a word like that?
Ant 3: Wikipedia. We go there sometimes while the fat guy sleeps. Me and some of the other drones punch out keys. Did you know you can watch 30Rock online? But I am totally serious; there are signs of the end: first attack of the zombie ants, then the fat guy cleans house. Then –
Jack: Well, there you go. That will never happen.
Ant 3: It could.
Jack: Look around. He eats in every room, drops crumbs everywhere, never cleans up. It’s heaven.
Ant 1: Seriously, anyone seen the queen since, say, mid-afternoon? We had an appointment for her to devour my skull.
Ant 3: That’s not a thing.
Ant 1: In some South American ant colonies –
Ant 4: Hey everybody, I’m back. The fat guy is vacuuming.
Zombie queen ant: Brrraaaaiiiiiiiiiiiinsssssss…..
Ant 3: Shit, shit shit! I knew it! I knew it! Do we pray? Do we have faith in a god with six legs and mandibles?
Ant 2: I’ll get the Kool-aid.
Jack: Shit. I’ve got to get off this island!
Ant 6: I’ll go with you. I have decided my name is Kate.
Jack: You’re a girl?
Kate: Yes, my egg was fertilized in my pupal stage.
Jack: I’ve got a plan.
Kate: I will do whatever you say. I trust you implicitly, Jack.
Ant 2: Hey everybody, Kool-aid! C”mon over and let me vomit into your mouth, which is how we adult ants share food.
Ant 3: We are disgusting. Ant God, please have mercy on our disgusting shared vomit because we only have 250,000 brain cells and also, how do you feel about gays and abortion?
Zombie Queen Ant: CHOMP. CHOMP. CHOMP.
Ant 1: I’m not sure why I am freaking out. She was going to do that to me this evening anyway. I had an appointment.
Jack: Kate, better get some of that vomitted Kool-aid. We’re going to the dark side of the island and who knows when we’ll get our next meal.
Kate: You got it. I believe in you, Jack.