I remember a very very long time ago, red ants. In Texas they were red ants. I'm in Florida now and they are called fire ants. They were probably red ants then too, a very very long time ago. A child in Texas was brutally attacked because how can you ever be politely attacked, ever? News media have all the adjectives. I believe it was my first childhood trauma with another living other than human form. Ants. Just that same story of how it happens the very first time in your life. Me, standing there, minding my own business. Oh and for heavens sake and mine too, having a fine wonderful time. It wasn't like I was standing there getting a dress down. Why was I so still? THEY, much organized. Nothing like the Florida model. When a Florida ant crawls up on me it bites the wholly living fricken/frackin poop outta me. ONE bite.
TEXAS. Maybe I really wasn't standing there that long. I did like waaaahh? It was not "A" bite. Commando attack, all in position. All 4,000 of them in position up my pants before the attack was launched;. My Dad never hesitated. I think he saw my eyes before I could take enough air in......I saw his eyes too as he was bolting at me. Locked...he knew. All at one time I was hurt. I started to slap at my pants just as he reached me. He was screaming for my Mom. His scream scared me more.........I didn't know yet. My Dad stripped me. I just thought I could swat at whatever was buggin me. My Dad didn't even say one word to me.....he yanked my pants off. I was MORTIFIED. It was the front yard. I still had no idea what was going on. My Dad had gone insane, I was very afraid..........OF HIM! I really wanted my Mom. The look in hers eyes that met mine as she came upon both of us...still too close to the mound, let me be a bit more frightened. My Mom scared me. My Dad strips. She yanks both of us to the cement and turns the hose on us. How many? How many? My Mom asks over and over. I still don't have a clue. I'm wet, feel fine, in my Dad's arms being carried to the house............when it starts to burn.