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Two hours later, he returned, pulling a wheelbarrow laden with bags of Ant-I-Ant and more safety equipment than he usually needed for one of these jobs. The clearing was deathly quiet. The gnats that followed him through the woods seemed content to be left behind. Lee gave the area a nervous look, then towed his load forward.
He wasted no time, donning his jacket, gloves, and mask. Tearing open four bags, Lee threw the contents across the near side of the anthill, then scuttled back to avoid the dust. When that settled, he’d take the wheelbarrow around the other side—
The loose dirt on the anthill squirmed and shifted, and the ants burst out.
Each ant was 20cm long, easy. Lee gaped, and walked backwards, unable to tear his eyes away—
Something started up his leg. Lee screamed, jumped, and batted at the ant on his calf. It caught his wrist and clamped on. His jacket protected him from the worst of it, but it still hurt!
“Why you son of a!” Lee bellowed. Before he realized what he was doing, he brought his arm up and bit into the ant’s abdomen, crunching through the shell. His mouth filled with the sour taste of ant juice, then it blew a high-pitched warbling fart, squirting alarm pheromones, as it let go. Other ants poured out of the mound, coming to help their comrade.
Lee flung the huge ant across the clearing; the other ants veered away to follow the flying pheromones. He caught a glimpse of more ants piling onto his wheelbarrow as he ran for it.
Spitting and gagging, Lee ditched his reeking jacket and kept running. This wasn’t over. He had a job to do. But he needed some special equipment. Maybe napalm.
And a video camera. Nobody was gonna believe this shit without video. Nobody.
And here’s the original story, as told by a 3-½ year old Mason:
I saw this anthill, and it was huge! Holds hand out at head level So I dumped poison all over it, and the ants came out. One of them bit me, and I bit it back!