Seems ants are tougher than you might think
and Augustine more than most
that’s why so many feared to face his ire
he’d best the strongest in a blink
(at least that was his boast)
but no one had the courage to inquire
if he was just a big unchallenged liar.
He’d listen to Mortimer babble on
(while doing half his work)
each word inciting anger in his heart
obsessively he’d dwell upon
each duty Mort would shirk
until he feared his mind would blow apart
and that’s what made his vengeful plotting start.
‘I’ll get that guy, just wait and see’
He’d think so no one heard,
‘By taking time to titillate my prey
and play upon his fantasy,
then Morty is assured
to take the path that carries him my way
so I can finally make that slacker pay!’
He pictured every type of pain
he’d joyously inflict
on Mortimer once snared within his trap
and how his screams would be in vain
despite the way he kicked
for Augustine would take him past The Gap
where no one should be rescuing that sap.
For ants would shun that scary place
where blinding light shone down
and awful noises issued piercingly,
but what could make his heartbeat race
enough that fear would drown,
what bait would lure him on enticingly?
The fiend would have to simmer patiently
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