Mandibles

Lauren sighed. "Why are we having this conversation?"

"I was just saying--"

"I know what you were just saying, but you can't possibly think it's important, can you?"

Charlie resisted the urge to throw the box of cereal at her. "You said that it was my fault for leaving the pantry door open, and I was saying that the ants would have gotten in anyway, that's all."

"Well it's not a big deal either way. Just throw away the box."

"The only reason it's not a big deal is because it's your fault instead of mine."

Lauren swung her legs off the armrest and planted them on the floor. "Honey? Throw the box away, okay?"

Charlie didn't move. Maybe he should throw the box at her. Hit her right in the face. A nice big mouthful of ants might shut her up for a while.

"Charlie? Are you listening?"

The ants might even devour her tongue. Then she'd never be able to gripe at him again unless she learned sign language, and she hated to study.

He could do it. He could throw the box.

It would be all her fault.

"Charlie!"

"I'm sorry," said Charlie, lowering the box.

"That's okay. I just don't see why you have to make a big deal out of everything. Finish up in the kitchen and we'll watch whatever you want."

Charlie nodded and turned away, then cried out as burning pain tore through the back of his hand. He dropped the box of cereal as a swarm of red ants quickly moved across his wrist.

"Help me!" he wailed, desperately trying to brush them off. Lauren immediately jumped off the couch and rushed over to him. The back of his hand was already covered with dozens of small welts, and the agony was incredible.

Lauren grabbed his other arm and dragged him into the kitchen. She pulled him over to the sink and turned on the faucet. "Put your arm under it!"

Whimpering, Charlie held his arm under the water. It was scalding hot, but that couldn't compare to the unbelievable burning pain in his hand. He'd been stung by bees several times and it was no big deal...how could ant stings possibly hurt this bad?

Lauren used the sprayer to wash the rest of the ants off his arm. Once they were all gone, she took the dishtowel from where it hung over the refrigerator door handle and gently blotted his arm dry. His hand and arm were already starting to swell up.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "How bad does it hurt?"

"It's like my hand is on--" he began, and then let out a scream. "They're under my shirt!"

He could feel some ants scurrying across his shoulder. With Lauren's help, he quickly pulled off his shirt and threw it to the floor.

"I don't see them!" said Lauren.

Charlie fell to his knees and began smacking the back of his neck, where the pain was at its worst. "Get them off me!" he shrieked.

"I still can't see them!"

"They're in my hair!"