Hi. I'm new here. [matthew]

Hi everyone. I'm the new guy. It's nice to meet you..................................

So the other day I woke up covered in ants. The weird thing was, I hadn't left any perishables in my room to be eaten. I had cleaned quite thoroughly the night before, and had removed all of the cheezits and dried mangoes I could find. So where the hell was this feast of theirs?

To my disgust, this bastard army of thieves had been crawling in and out of my mouth throughout the night. It was a bit gross, but a quick hop in the shower and a glass of orange juice did the trick. I had to admit, I was a bit worried though. They hadn't eaten anything important, had they?

So after my shower, I did some calisthenics. My blood pressure seemed to be in the usual high normal category. I took some deep breaths and both lungs seemed to be working. Two shots of Stolichnaya attested to a healthy liver. So what were those damn ants eating?

I went through the rest of my day feeling strangely empty, but it was probably just nerves. I did take extra precautions before bed that night though. I rubberbanded my lips into a petrified fish lips position to keep those damn ants out of my person. I also found an old wine cork, and stuck that in the other end of me... on the off chance that fucking ants might be willing to go in through the out door. When I decided my stay-fresh seals were strong enough, I turned out the lights and went to bed.

To my dismay, I woke up with ants up my nose. Admittedly, it was a numbskull of a mistake to leave my nostrils unguarded, but honestly, breathing is a pretty good deal as far as I can see. So I blew my nose and all was well. Everything still seemed to be in fine working order. I had heard stories about the Egyptians going through the nose to get at the brain, but my mind worked fine. Just what the hell were those ants into?

Life went on like that for a while. They went through the tear ducts. Hair follicles. Between my toe nails. They were clever little bastards. Eventually they resorted to tearing small holes in my skin. It made life pretty scabby. But life seemed increasingly scabby anyway.

The ants had made me an asshole. I would cut people off on the freeway, push people out the door as the BART train was pulling out of the stop. I voted Republican. And then there was this lady who walked past me on the way to work one morning...

I stuck my foot out to trip her. It was nothing personal; just arbitrarily felt like it. Well, she starts screaming at me and grabbing my leg and fighting back. So I followed my first instinct: Pee on her. But just as I was about to whip it out, I realized something... The ants had eaten my soul!

All those nights, they had been slowly eating away at my own essence, my persona. They had whittled me down into a jerk of a human being. And so I realized this as I'm about to get my ass kicked by this woman who I'd tripped... but my conscience no longer existed. So I peed on her.

The ants don't bother me here in prison now, which is good, because I'm not allowed to have things like rubber bands and wine corks, or even bug spray. But it's just as well, I'd only use the aerosol can to torment the guy in the cell next to me; boy, is he a whiny bitch.