Why I'm here I guess because I couldn't deal with the ants in my room at home. They were always there. A 45-degree angle across the ceiling and then 4.32 feet down the wall to go out through the crack in the window sill. I pushed all my things to the other side of the room, tried to ignore them. Couldn't. Had to get rid of them altogether. The first thing I tried was to hose down that side of the room. That worked, but only for 7.26 hours before they started creeping in again. When I went to look for the hose again after that, it wasn't to be found. I didn't mind much. Was ineffective as a means for disposing of the ants anyway.
My next idea was to stuff every crack in the walls of my room, so they wouldn't have an entry point. There were 27 cracks in my walls, and their main entry point was less than 4 centimeters long. It wouldn't be too hard, but I had to make sure it was done well. I ripped up my bed sheets and stuffed them in with a pencil, or else a bobby pin when the opening was too small even for that. I did such a good job at itI didn't leave my room for two full weeks (except at meals, of course) so I could make sure it was done perfectlybut they still got through and marched along the same line as they had always done, across the ceiling and down the wall. My mom gave me a sleeping bag and moved me in to the living room. She told me I wasn't to go back into my old room anymore. The living room is right next to my room, though, and every night I could hear their little feet moving on the wall. And there were so many of them and they each had so many legs, it would keep me up all night. I didn't sleep for three days, but I didn't mind. It gave me time to think, and in that time, I came up with a plan.
When no one was home I went out to the garage and searched for two hours exactly before finding what I was after: a full gas can. I grabbed one of my old super soakers and filled it up. I carried the gun back in to my old room, and listened to the gasoline sloshing inside it as I walked. I opened the door and shot a steady stream along the line of ants. Starting at the 3.79-centimeter crack in the ceiling, cutting a 45-degree angle across to the wall, then down 4.32 feet to the crack in the window sill. I followed their line exactly, even though it wasn't perfectly straight. I hit all of them, and killed a lot of them, but I knew it wasn't enough. I knew the only way to keep them from coming back. And I had to hurry, because Mom was going to be back any minute. So I pulled the match (which I had taken from the kitchen the day before) out of my pocket. It was so little, but still so much bigger than an ant. I struck it and lit the gasoline, and I watched their pathway disappear as the flame spread across the ceiling and down the wall.
When mom came home, she was upset, and I could understand that. The ants started coming back by the end of the day. It turns out lighting the room on fire just made all the cracks bigger. She told me she had been thinking about sending me here, but now that she saw exactly how big of a problem these ants could be. I agreed. What the house probably needed was to be torn down to its foundations and rebuilt. It was best that I go away while all of that was happening. She seemed nervous to tell me, but in truth I was delighted. The hospital would be clean, I thought. The hospital would never let in any ants. And it's true! I couldn't be happier here. Serene. All white, all clean. No more black trickle of legs across the ceiling and down the wall.