I am surrounded by the soft pitter patter of falling ants.
Pitter patter, pitter patter
I didn't want to, you understand? I didn't want to do it. What person in their right mind would want to do this? But they left me no choice. I had no choice.
Pitter patter, pitter patter
They say a man's home is his castle. If that's so, then what is his library, especially for a man like me? It is more than a home - it is an abode, a sanctuary. It is his heart. What else could I do, when I found them? I had no choice.
Pitter patter, pitter patter
My eyes still water from the fumes of the Ridsect. Such a potent thing, that little can. It is a little can of death. The death of hundreds. I didn't want to do it - but what else could I do, when I found that seething mass of ants nestled behind my books? I had no choice, I tell you. No choice.
Pitter patter, pitter patter
They fall to the earth like rain. It is as fascinating to watch as it is gruesome. the poison does not kill them instantly, of course - no, that would be too easy. First it drives them mad with pain. They scurry in panic, running without realizing that there is nowhere to run to - the death is already in them. Then whatever it is that powers their adhesive grip to the walls fail - and they fall.
Pitter patter, pitter patter
There are many - so very many of them. I have begun the cleanup. My dustpan is filled with tiny black corpses. It is a sea of dead. And yet, they keep falling.
Pitter patter, pitter patter
This will haunt my dreams, I know. Not the frenzy of the ants, running in panic as toxic death envelops them. Not the smell of insecticide that will hang over me for the rest of the day like a pall. Not even the vengeful bites of the ants that cling to life long enough to deliver what payback they can against the monster that has destroyed their world. No - it is the sound that will haunt me tonight. The gentle rain of black corpses hitting the floor.
Pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter...
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