Dear Fire Ants Get Out of My Life: A Rant

Writing a rant is fun.  And the most fun way to write a rant is as a letter to the object of your rant.  So I present to you, my rant against fire ants.  I hope you enjoy. Dear Fire Ants

Get out of my life!

There are so many things to not like about you.

It takes absolutely no provocation whatsoever to make you bite.  Just because you are walking across my foot doesn’t mean you need to bite my foot.  Other insects can crawl across me without biting, what is your problem?  It’s not like you are drinking blood or have some real reason for the attack.  In fact, the attack merely gets you killed because upon being bitten anyone will smash you.  You are very small, fire ants.  Trust me when I tell you  biting me or anyone else does nothing to protect you or your nest from destruction.  On many occasions it merely points out your location while simultaneously angering your victim.

When you bite it hurts like crazy so you get killed, but even 2 minutes after being smashed into a stain, the bite still hurts just as bad as when you first did it.  What sort of special evil is that?  It’s the reason why people hate you.

You have stolen my footwear options.  It's impossible to wear sandals whenever you are around.  If you take a notion to bite my tennis shoes then that’s your problem, but if you bite my bare feet, now it’s a problem for both of us.  So I elect to just not wear sandals.

There is also no more itchy bite that the one from you.  As soon as the stinging sensation ends, it starts itching.  Then after a couple of days the bite becomes a disgusting, puss-filled mound of itch.   It’s completely gross.  I imagine it’s what leprosy looks like.  Why would you want to do this to people?

Also, there are way too many of you.  How can you be so ubiquitous in the south?  I ceded my back yard to you a long time ago, there are more mounds back there that I can count, but now you want the front as well.  It's not happening.  I'll break out every kind of poison I can find to keep you confined to the back.  You are not welcome there.

You work way too fast.  Between occasions of mowing the yard you build at least a dozen mounds.  Slow down, it should be obvious that you are going to get everything.  So what’s the rush?

It doesn’t help that poison is futile.  Most every kind of poison that promises to destroy you only moves you a few feet.  You’ve been poisoned, why won’t you just die?

In conclusion, GET OUT OF MY LIFE, fire ants.  I hope you all get fly eggs in your head and become zombies, you deserve it.