August 27, 2004

His Days Are Numbered

Those of you who don't read the comments on this site may not realize that earlier this week Chris received quite a nasty threat from the ant who was laughing in the window while Chris did his happy meatball dance in the street. The ant in question identified himself as "Fynch." I however decided to give him a more appropriate nickname, Olid, due to the fact that he is probably nothing more than a pathetic Odorous House Ant.

Last night, I made my way down from Chris and under the floorboards to seek out this Olid and give him what's for. It didn't take me long to find the lean-to he made out of dust bunnies, but the ant himself was nowhere to be found. I searched into the wee hours of the morning, covering as much ground as I could, but found no trace of him. I did encounter a young dust mite at one point, who was nibbling on a flake of Chris's dead skin. I called out to the lad, "Huzza! Have you ever tasted anything more delicious?" This startled the mite, and sent him scurrying off into the night, which is a shame because I wanted to ask him if he saw an ant hobble by recently. I've never understood dust mites and their skittish ways.

I intend to continue the search for Olid throughout the coming days, and I’ll keep you posted on my progress. I have extensive experience with this sort of thing as I once lived on an Italian soldier named Enzo, who was stationed in Northern Africa during WWII. While there I learned all kinds of useful survival tips, such as how to use hot, fresh urine to cleanse a wound and how to use maggot therapy to clean out dead, infected skin from an open wound. So I know what I’m doing, I have plenty of fresh urine to spare, and that bastard ant doesn’t stand a chance.

In the meantime, I will return to the minutia of Chris's life, starting later this weekend.

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