I have ants in my eyes. Shall I be worried?

When I saw the first ant crawl across my retina, that was when I decided it was time to see the doctor. I had no idea where it came from. I woke up one morning and my eyes were suddenly a haven for these little, six-legged soldiers. What were they doing there? What did they want with my eyes? These were the sort of questions I was perpetually asking myself.

The doctor was no help. He berated me. Told me that I was wasting his time. There were no ants in my eyes, he told me. Fucking liar.

“Donald. You come here every week worrying about something and every week, it’s not real.”

“It’s real this time. Can you please just do your fucking job.”

He rolled his eyes. Like he was dealing with a petulant child, the fucking prick.

“Fine but this is the last time, Donald.”

He pulled out his ophthalmoscope like it was some sort of weapon and used it to shine a light into the inside of my eye. A moment of silence passed between us as he peered into the window to my soul. I observed him with my other eye, the good one. I watched as his expression changed from indifference to concern. What the fuck was he seeing? His eyes widened a little; panic leaking into them like spilled tea.

“What is it?”

“It’s...nothing, Donald. Everything is perfect.”

He ushered me out of the door...fast. On my way out, I could have sworn I saw him smile. Feeling crestfallen, I went home.

As the days progressed, things got worse. Have you ever touched your own eyeball? That feeling of dry skin touching a hardened, yet moist surface. My eyes were fucking vibrating. There is no other way to describe it.

I stood in front of my mirror for days on end - just staring into my blood red orbs. The crimson veins looked like the warped branches of a tree. Every now and again, I would see a small, black ant wriggle across the whites of my eye.

I pleaded with them. ”Please just go away.”

Everyday, they would double, triple,quadruple. Pretty soon, my vision was nothing but ants.

I decided my eyes were no longer of any use to me, so I cut them out. I started with the right one. I held it in the palm of my hand, like a little grape. Then I squeezed. It popped quickly, like a pimple and I felt the cold, gooey liquid leak onto my quivering fingers. It was sticky, like glue.

I felt something stir in the hole where my eye used to be. Something big.

It emerged from my empty eye socket, it’s six legs brushing up against my loose skin. Thousands of other little spindly legs followed.

Then I heard a voice, a voice so deep and grating. It felt like someone was rubbing sandpaper against my ear drums.

“We will never let your kind step on us again.”