Somehow, after all that, the day proceeded as normal with no ant to be seen in my locker nor bookbag. ![]() As this was going on, my best friend armed herself with her finest pencil and lowered the eraser side down on the ants as if playing a strange game of whack-a-mole, killing them all while I stood absolutely horrified for the second time that day. Out from my binder, reminiscent of the Olympic opening ceremony, came dozens of even more ants appearing in every direction and covering my desk. After lunch ended and I had returned to class, the ants had decided that their performance was a hit and prepared oh so generously an encore. Of course, this event could have ended there, but nope. Needless to say, my lunch had to be thrown out and the principal landed up giving me money to buy something from the school cafeteria. Every ant that had magically disappeared after cleaning the counters must have found refuge in my bag that morning. As soon as it is placed on the table and opened ever so slightly, Satan's black parade started swarming out of my lunchbox and all over the lunch table. Well, one fine spring day, I bring my lunchbox as usual to school, whipping it out at lunchtime to eat. ![]() Two: I always brought a lunchbox rather than buy the school lunch. One: Every year in the spring, my house would get infested with small black ants that no amount of Raid nor traps nor Zeus' almighty thunderbolts could get rid of -all- of them. Let me just preface this with two things:
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