The Master Race

An entomologist might take issue
with me, but of a certainty I have
unwittingly discovered a new species 
of ants. When we think ants, we 
visualize regimented pools of workers 
in an insect society where all sacrifice 
their individuality for the greater social
good; the purest kind of altruism.
Preservation of the majority personified
sacrifice of each for the advance of the 
whole. Absent, we assume, a selfish gene.
I've met their opposite. Who even 
knew they exist? Think a breed of 
Goliath ants. Imagine big bruisers 
whose presence is so dominating they
cannot be mistaken for their meeker 
cousins. Oh yes, I've heard of fire ants 
and Army ants and the devastation they
are capable of, but they still serve a 
common purpose, the preservation of 
the entire unit. These ants of which 
I have made acquaintance on the other 
hand are arrogant, entitled, belligerent 
and downright scary. They march with 
a swagger within this cottage kitchen 
set in the midst of a pine forest, each 
among them convinced he is a match 
for my height, weight and determination. 
The sad thing is, they're likely right, as
my husband can attest, his ears ringing 
with my shrieks of awe and fear each time
one of those brutes, black and feisty,
confronts me and gives chase.