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A great place to keep your fantastic ideas, like, "Hey! I need to write more sentences about crickets and English gentlemen with unruly beards."
You know the goddess in charge is pleased with you when she blesses you with one perfect black fig, ripe-to-falling-off-the-tree and yet untouched by ants and birds.
Atop the tiny hill the crowd of ants cheered and rose their glasses to toast the completion of their very first jam and crumb helicopter.
The cats bowls have little moats around them - it’s necessary for even the dry food - but still, the ants come… right under the front door and up the hallway like they own the place and even ‘Rid Ant’ won’t stop them.
I swear, if it’s not ducks, then it’s ants and if it’s not ants, then it’s spiders - the little bastards parasailing in numbers from the roof - I’ve stopped looking up because when you look up and see ten of the little buggers and then hit them with a full blast of bug spray and they still keep coming - you don’t really want to know how many more are darting about on the ceiling.
Officially, it can be called a “picnic” when ants are present at the meal.
Fruit leather shoes will make your feet smell sweet, but whatever you do, don’t stand still near the anthill.
After last year’s adventures with leafcutter ants, I vowed this year to go thermonuclear on their little asses to protect my oranges, avocados and limes, but all I’ve succeeded in doing so far is repeatedly poisoning myself every time I spray some exotic new chemical.
The talking ants were full of lies, going so far as to tell Judith that she could be their queen if she shared the recipe for her potato salad with the colony.
The talking ants couldn’t help but notice the startling similarity between the tasty watermelon and Judith’s pink, fleshy exoskeleton, but while they were notorious liars, they were not rude, and kept their thoughts to themselves.
He couldn’t tell you who was running for president or even which teams were playing in the upcoming Super Bowl, but thanks to Mrs. Bolander in apartment 4-B, who called him at 7:45 to share the news, the Chief now had extensive knowledge regarding the use of lemon juice to kill ants, and also an update regarding her rash, which like the ant problem, was looking better.
Pinocchio wished more than anything that he hadn't left the lid off of his carpenter ant farm.
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