Sucked Up By Something That Came From The Sky

Monsters in the house. Miniature monsters, but monsters nonetheless. I tapped my fingers against the tabletop rhythmically, thinking them over. They were all over the living room, casing it, getting their bearings—planning. There, finger tapping, I felt like I ought to be making plans too.

Have you seen a picture of an ant up close? They are sort of cute. The hairs on their faces remind me vaguely of dog whiskers. They have a mild look about them that is almost robotic—just a sweet little robot heavily coated in armor of the exoskeleton variety. And then they flex those mandibles, and everything changes. They become monsters.

I cast a glance over at one side of my living room, which had been renamed The Garden Center. One day prior to every hurricane that passes through, one half of the living room turns into this new place. Hurricanes, in their thoughtless haste, like to blast things like potted plants and wicker porch furniture into oblivion—or worse, through glass windows. Hence, the creation of The Garden Center.

Three years ago, prior to evacuating, I was kept in good company by some chirping tree frogs. Two years ago it was one very steadfast cricket. Bless his soul, he sang through Hurricane Irma and well beyond, until finally The Garden Center was dismantled, once Irma was also dismantled.

Today was Dismantle The Garden Center Day. Sadly there was not a chirp or a peep from a tree frog, or a steadfast little cricket strumming away on himself like a military flutist leading us bravely through battle. Instead, once all the plant pots and pool floats and yard tools were removed, there was a trail of miniature monsters.

Despite their monster nature, I have a soft heart. The little monster-beast-things just want to seek shelter from the storm too. Their house is a bit swampy, I cajoled. Always one to provide a good dose of southern hospitality, I was inclined to provide shelter to one little monster. Maybe two, or five. But soon I realized that there was an entire army marching onto the premises.

What are their intentions? I wondered. Are they simply passing through on their search for higher ground, or do they intend to take up permanent residence? It was impossible to tell. Being that I was extremely outnumbered, I began to panic a little. I got the vacuum cleaner.

Whoosh, whoosh, whir, whir. The little fellows were sucked up in a few swipes across the tile floor. A few stragglers scampered to seek shelter beneath the baseboard once more. I turned off the vacuum cleaner and leaned against the table, my fingers idly drumming again.

I wondered what the remaining ants in the colony would think of the sudden disappearance of possibly a third of their army. Maybe one of those straggler ants would wonder back to the damp nest, shaken, and mutter to her queen: “They were all sucked up by something that came from the sky!”

Naturally, the queen ant assumed that it was aliens that got them. Somewhere, one-third of the ant colony was being flown off to some distant galaxy, but for what purpose? To populate a new planet with her regal genetics perhaps? The queen might flush with dignity as she announces to her sterile clanswomen: “Onward with this campaign! We must seek higher ground, whether here on this planet or beyond!”

Approximately one hour later, after finishing drumming my fingers, I wondered back to the now completely defunct garden center. And there they were.

“Persistent little buggers,” I said to myself. I whipped out the vacuum cleaner. “Pheromone trail or not, these ladies have got to learn to take a hint.”

A terrified straggler ant might make it back to her queen once more. Breathlessly she will tell of the terrifying beast that swoops down from the sky like a long grey snake, and sucked up her comrades like they were nothing more than grains of sand. The queen will cast a glance around at her remaining drastically diminished army, then belt out her command.

“Onward! To Venus, or Mars, or some obscure planet that has never been heard of. They will probably name it after us—the only colony to ever ride the grey snake beyond this atmosphere!”

And there I stood, letting out a long sigh while eyeing the still plugged in vacuum. Just tapping my fingers against the tabletop.