Wicked

He was on his way home when he first saw them.

They were charred bodies scattered along the path. Although barely recognisable, that’s what they were. It was a hot day and the sun was fierce, but that didn’t explain what he was witnessing. There were so many of them that he felt he should begin a count. He suddenly stopped dead, the counting forgotten. Up ahead, he was amazed to see a great beam of light coming down from somewhere above. He had never seen anything like it and immediately left the track and began to make his way forward using the cover of the verge-side undergrowth. As he came closer, he saw a great giant of one of those creatures he had come to know about. Some of them could be wicked. This one was probably a boy. He was grinning, holding a large magnifying glass and directing the sun’s rays down upon some of his kind.

He being a bulldog ant, arguably the most dangerous ant in the world, who when attacking uses both his sting and jaws simultaneously, and knocking up a number of recorded fatalities, rightly considered that climbing onto the enormous shoe and working his way up the ankle until he came to bare flesh would be the way to go.

He reckoned that several good bites should do the job.

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