These are desperate times. Bodies strewn across the East and West battlefields...the bathroom, the vanity. I was driven to decisive action, I'm sorry to say. While the baiting seems risky (do I really want to attract thousands more of them?), I'd rather do something than try to negotiate.
The ants must die.
I did become injured in the process. Some might point at my wound and declare it self-inflicted. But the horror of this day will be seared -- SEARED -- into my memory. Also, I'm just pretty grossed out. But unfortunately, they don't give medals for gross-out.
The pellet with the poison's in the flagon with the dragon. The vessel with the pestle has the brew that is true.
1 comment:
Is that pan-seared then???
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