easy street haunt

Although Phillip Walker felt grumpy, having awakened on the wrong side of the bed, he had an encounter with ants, which dwarfed his grumpiness that day and put things into perspective.

Philip, or Phil as his wife called him, sat up in bed and grimaced as he rubbed his thinning hair. His destiny to become a bald man was just another way the universe shafted him. As Phil swung his legs around and put two feet on the floor his stomach percolated, signaling he needed to make a trip to the bathroom and take care of business. He struggled on the toilet but after nearly ten minutes he was done. Relieved, he wiped, flushed, half washed his hands and then made his way to the kitchen. He intended to begin his morning ritual with coffee and a chip on his shoulder, but it occurred to him that coffee might be tickling his mild irritable bowel syndrome. He decided to cut back to two cups a day, but there was no way in hell he was going to let the universe take away his coffee completely. Being a stubborn asshole, Phil would wait until he was bleeding from his rectum before giving up his narcotic completely.

After Phil retrieved the French roast from his freezer, he stuffed a tan coffee filter in the basket and eyeballed the amount of coffee he scooped out with a metal spoon. His wife, Tracy, used the small brown measuring cup with the long, slender handle Phil could never find (Tracy always made a better brew). If she doesn’t like this pot, she can wait till I finish this one and then make her own, Phil grumbled.

He failed to notice a few spilled grounds on the kitchen counter as he made his way back to the freezer with the French Roast. When he returned he spotted a few ants probing the coffee grounds. That’s stupid, Phil thought. Ants don’t like coffee, stupid ants. He squished a couple of them with his thumb before taking the coffee pot to the sink and filling it with water. When he turned around there were a couple more ants on the counter. Phil shook his head and started brewing his pot. He got a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee, taking the time to “accidentally” spill some scalding coffee on the new ants.  

“Phil, you’re making a mess,” Tracy said as she came into the kitchen. Startled, Phil nearly dropped his coffee and cursed, “God damn it.” Ignoring Phil’s outburst, Tracy snagged the kitchen towel off the refrigerator handle and wiped up the dead ants, burning ants, coffee grounds and coffee. She turned around sharply and marched down the hallway with the soiled towel to the washing machine/dryer alcove. She lifted the lid to the washing machine part way and tossed in the towel. Hating all things that are slammed, Tracy let the lid down gently before turning around and making her way back to the kitchen.

She didn’t bother getting dressed that morning, wearing only a gray tank-top that exposed her mid-riff and a pair of pink panties. She hoped to lure Phil back to bed but seeing he was in a mood, she wondered if he’d start a fight with her or be a passive-aggressive twat. When Tracy entered the kitchen she saw Phil seated at the dining room table, scrolling through his tablet. She poured herself a cup of coffee and asked, “Did you use the brown measuring cup?” No answer. Passive-aggressive twat it is.

Tracy took a seat next to Phil. Undeterred by his mood, she asked, “Can I make you breakfast?” 

“I’m good,” Phil said, lifting his mug up to indicate his coffee was sufficient. Tracy looked around, thinking of something to say. Nothing came to mind, so she sipped her coffee and winced at the extra bitterness- Phil used too many grounds. He raised an eyebrow, daring Tracy to criticize the brew, but she didn’t want a fight so she didn’t say anything. 

After a few minutes of silence and growing bored watching Phil read his tablet, Tracy started to play a little footsy with him under table as she asked, “Would you like to come back to bed with me?”

“No, I’d like to finish my coffee,” Phil replied as he withdrew his foot from hers.

Tracy calmly stood up from the table and said, “Well, that’s too bad. I’m going to the bedroom and masturbate if you change your mind.” Phil raised an eyebrow and despite himself his eyes followed Tracy as she left the table. He mentally cursed himself and said, What the hell is wrong with you Phil? Go and help her out. He put down his tablet and stood up from the dining room table. He got up almost too quickly, spilling his coffee, but he steadied his mug and made his way into the kitchen. 

Just then something life-altering happened. “Hey, Phil, look over here.”

Phil looked up from the mug he carefully balanced, expecting to see Tracy standing in the hallway, but she wasn’t there. 

“No, Phil, down here.”

“Who said that?” Phil asked, startled that someone else was in the house besides him and his wife. 

“Down here on the kitchen island, Phil.” Phil directed his attention to the tiny voice and realized it was coming from an ant.  A sense of dread came over him. 

This isn’t right, Phil thought. He looked around and then back at the counter and the ant (or ants as was the case) were still there. He swallowed hard and a bead of sweat formed on his forehead. Ants do not talk or stand upright, but no matter how much Phil wished they weren’t there, the ants continued to exist. Turning away from the counter Phil wiped the sweat from his forehead and covered his mouth. He looked back down from the corner of his eye and saw the ants looking up at him, waiting for a response.  

Phil couldn’t explain his next action but he looked away again as he raised his hand and brought it down toward the ants. An unarticulated hope told him that       smashing the aberrations would set the universe right. Something caught his hand, however, preventing the smack of flesh against the marble counter-top. He looked down and saw that one of the ants was holding his hand. The ant twisted it in an unnatural way and Phil snatched it back. As he doubled over in pain while holding his sprained hand, he came eye level with the ants.

There was a large queen ant and on either side of her were two large soldier ants. The ants stood upright on four legs, and the soldier ant on the queen’s right gripped a staff with a banner. The red and yellow banner had an image of a coffee bean on a white circle. The soldier ants wore dark violet berets and the queen wore a pink stole around her neck.

“Georgina,” the queen ant called out. “I need this man’s attention, please retrieve it for me.” The soldier ant who sprained Phil’s hand grabbed him by the face and then, she repeatedly rammed Phil’s forehead into the edge of the kitchen counter. SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!

“Ow! Fuck!” Phil shouted as he stood up holding his injured forehead. Tracy was stretched out on the covers in the bedroom, watching online porn when she heard a loud noise. She took her headphones off in time to hear Phil curse, but she figured he was just mad about something and being dramatic. She stayed in the bedroom, putting her headphones back on as she had no intention of becoming an audience to another one of his temper-tantrums. 

“Christ, what do you want!?” Phil asked.

“Good, I have your attention,” the queen said. “Now come closer so I won’t have to shout. Do not worry, I won’t have Georgina injure you again.”

Hesitant, Phil bent down so he was eye level with the ants again. The soldier ant Georgina returned to her place by her queen’s side. 

“Phil, you have an abundant amount of coffee in your territory and you’re going to surrender a portion of it to us,” the queen ant said, cutting to the chase. 

“You want my coffee?”

“Every night, Phil, before you and Tracy go to bed, you’ll leave a cup of dark roast coffee grounds on this kitchen counter. By morning the coffee will be gone. Do you understand?”

“I…uh…”

“Phil, you’ll leave coffee out for us every night! Do you understand?”

“Yes.” 

“Also, you will no longer kill any of my scouts. They’re not as strong as my soldiers, so if you see them exploring this house, you’ll simply leave them alone and you’ll tell your wife to do the same. Is that understood?” Phil nodded. “Do you have any questions?”

“What if I don’t leave you the coffee grounds?” Phil asked.

“Are you refusing?”

“Maybe I am,” Phil said hesitantly. 

“Then one night while you sleep, a hundred of my children will eat your testicles in five seconds.” Phil gulped visibly. “Don’t disappoint me, Phil” the queen said as she turned and departed with her soldiers. Phil’s eyes followed the ants as they marched away from him and then, crawled over the edge of the counter top. He leaned over to follow their trek but they were gone.