Monday, April 20, 2015

Guest Post, From an Unexpected Source!

Today I'm thrilled to present a guest post from one of my favorite people.

Mmmmmmmmm. But no.
It comes from my very own Drummer Boy.

Because it turns out he's smokin' hot and a brilliant musician and a talented and funny writer. What he sees in a cipher like me, I swear I'll never know.

Turns out I'm Homer in this equation.
Anyway, yesterday he rather sheepishly told me he had written something. I asked if I could read it, and he graciously obliged. When it turned out I really, really liked his story, I asked if I could feature it as a guest post on my blog. And here we are.

There are two things you should know about Drummer Boy.

First, he's not a "word person." He'll be the first to admit that he doesn't pay attention to the lyrics of songs. Which I guess is why he's not impressed with the fact that I know all words to Dylan's Highway 61 Revisited by heart. Yet I know from our long online conversations that he is eloquent and literate and witty. So I don't really know why he doesn't consider himself a word person.

Second, he looks like Jeff Bridges. Specifically, like Jeff Bridges as The Dude in The Big Lebowski. That's not just my opinion; he works in retail, and people ask him all the time if they can take his picture, just because he looks like The Dude. On Halloween he went to work dressed as The Dude and caused a minor sensation.

Not Drummer Boy, but an incredible simulation.
So without further ado, here's the harrowing tale of my sweetie's brush with death. I hope you enjoy it.

If I Had a Paperclip...
I left my window open a crack when I went to bed last night, and in the early hours of the morning I was awoken by the feeling of something crawling on my left shin. 

I instinctively attempted to crush the assailant with the heel of my right foot. A couple of swats, yet I still felt this beast at my leg. I arose to deal with the matter, and by the light of Larry, Curly, and Moe, (who had been left running...obviously), I could see that my assailant was a giant black ant. Big, like the kind of ant a survivalist would love to find and chow on while lost in the wilderness.


So I jump into action, swat the offender from my leg and onto the bed, leap from bed to turn on the light, and say my goodbyes to the ant. I then proceed to line up my cocked-back fingernail to administer the thump-of-death. 

I thump him once, and he lives. 

Twice, and he is still alive. 

A third thumping bounces him from the bed and onto the floor. I get him in my sights and crush him with my right heel. Only, when I lift my foot, there he is, injured, but hobbling feverishly toward me. 

Pictured: Feverish hobbling.

He's heading right for me! He's pissed off! I tried to kill him, and he's coming for vengeance.

I know now that this is a fight to the death; it's either him or me. So, with the fluidity of a Ninja, I swoop down and grab one of my Dude house slippers, and come overhead of the ant...WHAM!!!

He's still coming! Again I strike him, yet still he comes. He's closing in now, a mere fifteen, maybe eighteen inches away, and coming fast. He kind of looks like the Terminator when he was just a torso, crawling, pursuing, pulling himself as best he could. This ant is coming for me. So for a third time I smash him with my house-slipper-o-death from above.

A moment of silence, please.

This time he dies. The ant dies. He not only dies, he is dismembered. There is a tiny line of broken pieces laying there that used to be an ant. 

I wanted to take the pieces and stick them on a toothpick, or a paperclip. I would display the ant's dismembered body at the opening of my window for all other ants to see.

The hum-ant-ity.

THIS!!! This is what awaits you if you dare enter my lair! I will crush all that try to invade my domain! And the house-slipper-o-death from above is not one, but two! Two slippers-o-death that will crush you!

That is what I would do, if I had a paperclip.

Beware, ant-bastards.

I love this.

If I awoke to an ant on me, I'd probably just scream.

Sometimes words fail me.

Confidential to Drummer Boy: Squee.


  1. This was an inspiring tale of Man vs. Nature. Sort of like Hemingway, but with ants instead of lions or bulls.

    There is no limit to what people can accomplish!

  2. I almost backed out thinking it was a spider, but I'm glad that I didn't. Brilliant wordsmithing!

  3. Poor ant, what did she do to deserve it. Beware of the wrath of her legions of sisters, all ye ant-killers!


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