Evil Giant Ants

Just fucking great….

Ma just emailed me and told me there was an old rumor that someone had hanged (hung) themselves in the basement at 48 Pond St.  Sweet Jebus, I knew the damn place was haunted. 

I remember having a reoccurring nightmare when I lived in the EviL HOuSe on Pond St.  It would wake me up and I’d run into my parents room and climb under their bed.  I remember lying there under the bed and looking out into the hallway and watch in horror as the giant ants marched by the doorway.  These ants were easily a foot and a half tall and they walked upright.  I ain’t shittin ya.  They were evil ants.  Large, black, evil fucking ants.  I am convinced they were all part of the Nasty’s evil plot to get me.   

I remember it like it was tomorrow.  What I don’t remember is whether the part about running to my parents room and climbing under their bed was part of the dream or I really did go into their room and then fell asleep under their bed.  Then again, maybe the whole fucking thing was a dream.

To this day I have little tolerance for ants.  It’s all the Nasty’s fault.

Down the hallway was the closet that contained the entrance to the attic. 

An attic that I can honestly say I only went into once.  Part of the issue was that the closet was a big walk-in type thingee that was filled will all kinds of shit and the hatch to the attic was in the back corner. 

The one time I went up there I opened the hatch and proceeded to stick my head through a think, dusty old spider web.  Ewwwwww.   I was distracted for a moment but I thought I saw one of dem Nasty’s outta the corner of my eye. I quickly closed the hatch, jumped into a pile of old clothes and made my way back to my bedroom.

I may have never seen them in the attic but I sure as hell heard them as I lay in my bed trying to sleep.  They’d fuck with me all the time.  They let me start to fall asleep and then make a little thump on the ceiling above me or in the wall next to my head.  Fuckers, I knew it was them.  They could get around the house through the passageways they made in the walls and ceilings.  Evil little fuckers. 

One night we all went out for dinner and the Nasty’s went to work.  Somehow they managed to jam a face cloth into the upstairs bathroom sink and turned the water on.  I am convinced the Nasty’s thought we were still home and were looking to flush all of us down into the basement where they could drag us into their evil lair through that hole in the floor.

Well we came home and the plaster ceiling in the living room bulged down like Nicole Richie’s belly in month 8 of her pregnancy.  I vaguely remember coming into the house and watching as my father pierce the ceilling with a screwdriver to release the gallons upon gallons of water the Nasty’s had caused to accumulate above the ceiling.

We survived, much to the dismay of the Nasty’s.  My sister believed she had caused the accident.

I knew better, it was the Nasty’s.  The evil little unrelenting fuckers.  It was all their fault. 

The Nasty’s made their point a short time after when they jammed our cat into the engine of a friends new Ford Mach 1 Mustang.  Unknowingly he started the car and then next thing we knew our parents were telling us the cat had gone to live on a farm far away.

The damn Nasty’s……

I went by the old house a couple months ago and it looked quite normal.  No little glowing eyes staring out at me.  No evil shaped smoke coming outta the chimney.  There were a couple of young children playing in the small front yard, maybe, just maybe the Nasty’s were no longer there.

Shit, if the Nasty’s aren’t there, where are they?

Hmmmm I think I need to investigate…..

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