I was in the kitchen rocking out to tunes on my Discman, cutting the tips off some radishes.

Surprise jolted through my body as my roommate suddenly entered the kitchen. I composed myself and addressed him.

“Hey Dick,” I said. “I am cutting these radishes so I can feed them to my pet rabbits.”

Dick smiled at me, grabbed a beer from the fridge, then started saying something.

“What?” I said, removing my headphones.

“You have a huge ant on your arm!” he said all excitedly.

I looked down. Sure enough, there was a large ant on my arm.

“Wow,” I said. “But I kind of want to leave it there, since I enjoy how it feels as it delicately crawls on my skin. Like a mini-massage.”

Dick looked at me weird for a moment, then swiped at the ant with his index finger, sending it to the floor.

**

The ant was still, on the floor, but definitely not yet dead. Either stunned or playing the age-old ant-trick of acting dead, I thought.

But then Dick stomped on it. Then again. Then a third time.

And then he exited.