Have you ever heard of a video game called “Ant Destroyer”?
It’s not so much a video game, as much as it is just me killing ants in my house with a flamethrower.
I passed a pill bug that was stuck on its back, and without thinking, I bent over and flipped him. If it could talk, it would have probably thanked me, but I felt really good about it anyway. That’s why I think I should be the next president of the United States.
The name's Tim. Nice to meet you, maybe.
I play guitar, sing silly songs, write stuff, draw shitty pictures and make people on the Internet mad on a professional level. I drink a lot of tea and write letters to pen pals. I also think about death a lot.
That’s it. That’s the final straw.
I left a half-full can of Shasta Tiki Punch in my living room before I went to the store with my nephew. Upon my return, the can was covered in the most foul summertime beasts known to man:
Ants.
Everywhere, just… ants. Feasting on my precious drink, taking it as if they had not the slightest bit of respect for me, though I’ve let them live in peace for years.
No, now times have changed.
I’m currently devising a plan of attack to the ants’ home base, which intel has placed not too far from our home base. It will require the utmost effort on all of our parts, but I think we can do this.
Men. We attack at dawn.
