Red Team, GO! Red Team, GO!

The bathroom has become a hunting ground, the latest target of scouter ants.

I pick them off, one by one, like a serial killer. I've got different methods, some quick and merciful, others meant as a warning.

A quick squeeze of the trigger and a few get sprayed. One is lured away from the faucet and quickly drowned. Those who are either very brave or very stupid, who run across the floor in danger's path, are ruthlessly rubbed out in front of their comrades. I've trapped more than one underneath a glass, effectively cutting off his air supply; an example to the others.

And still, they keep coming! You'd think, after the Alpha Team did not return from their mission, they'd get the message. But no, they send in another unsuspecting group.

Those poor bastards. A few make a run for it, heading towards the door and the soft camouflage of the carpet in the hallway. Defectors who have nothing left to live for once they cross the threshold, scouring the floor for late night crumbs, sticking close to the baseboards as the vacuum roars ever closer.

But their time will soon come. Oh yes, it will.