I hate ants.

I can't stand the little black monsters inside, ever since my mother's house was invaded by them. I was unpacking boxes of junk from when I'd cleaned my room at age 5-10, and found the rem,ains of candy wrappers. Everywhere, they were bored through and filled with teeming masses of tiny black ants. And to top it off, we had carpenter ants too. And then...then...they stasrted taking over my room. I would wake up to see columns of ants on my headboard. They ate the varnisah off my dowel rod. But the last straw was when one bit me. And I swiped at it, and its little head stayed on my leg while its little body went flying off. Tiny jaws, gnawing on me even in death. They scare me. I hate them in my house. Outdoors, they're peaceable enough, even in sticky hordes around a mnelting ice-cream cone. But indoors... I have been known to scream and stand on chairs at the sight of an ant in a room. And now the little monsters are invading the new house. At the edges of the kitchen, there are two small hills of grit. We sweep them away, and they come back. There are ants teeming in the corner of the bathroom, most of them dead. There are two anthills in the garage by the furnace. We call them "oddly-shaped black beetles" so as not to alarm. I feel a need to get the organic (soap and mint oil) pesticides from my dad and soak the whole house in them. I'm beginning to get paranoid. , , please don't laugh. I think they really are evil ants... I can feel them inside my cast.