Cookoo Charlie's Animal Alphabet - A is for Ants

Ants

The trio were sprawled out in the middle of the front lawn. They had been friends for three years, first hooking up in third grade at St. Joseph’s school. It was during that year, Richie placed a large rubber tarantula on Carole Beachwood’s leg. Her shrieking wail, followed by the thud of the tarantula smacking the classroom ceiling, broke the three mischievous musketeers into laughter, Richie’s giggling through his pizza sauce-stained braces.

The house behind them was empty – some said it was abandoned, others claimed it was haunted. The trio, being typical boys, had to go and check it out for themselves. Neither of them had the guts to try to gain access into the silent structure, choosing instead to goad or bribe one another into doing it.

“C’mon, Richie,” said Kenny, “I’ll give you three dollars, my new Spidey comic and… my sabertooth model you’ve been drooling over.”

Kenny didn’t have three dollars and there was no way in hell he was going to cough up his prehistoric cat on a lousy dare. Richie could have the comic, that particular webhead issue wasn’t that good anyway.

Ignoring Kenny, Richie asked, “You guys want to spend the night Saturday and watch Creature from the Black Lagoon on Chiller Theater?”

“I think I can get my old man to shine the green light on that,” stated Kenny.

“I don’t think I can. We’re supposed to…” began Stephen, getting distracted from something on his leg.

“You piss on yourself or something?” teased Kenny.

“Fuck off,” retorted Stephen. “No, I… ooouch!” Stephen lifted his right arm; a half dozen soldier ants were crawling on his hand, digging their wickedly powerful mandibles into his skin.

Suddenly Richie and Kenny were on their feet, their lower jaws hanging wide open, as if they’d just spotted Kenny’s seventeen-year old neighbor walking past her window topless. Only the sight in front of them wasn’t that pleasurable.

Directly behind Steven, an army of red ants evacuated, like the pre-prep bowels of a colonoscopy patient, an anthill, an anthill that wasn’t there when the classroom chums first arrived. They swarmed over the now screaming Stephen, as if he were a Venom-coated Peter Parker. They bit off miniscule pieces of Stephen’s flesh, chewed into his eyeballs, and entered his ear canal and nasal cavity.

Ritchie and Kenny abandoned their beleaguered buddy and fled down the street, yelling for help. They never found out if the house was actually haunted. They never went back.