Screaming at Bugs on the Campaign Trail 2024

I lord over an ant hill, standing as solid and planted as an eighty-foot marble statue of God himself. My boots are mighty and can squash even the heartiest of ants. I could squash an ant even if it were three inches long, maybe even longer.

Have you ever seen that movie, “Them!”? The Them’s are ants and if I were in that movie the Them’s would be the Then’s and they’d have to call the movie “Then!” because it’d already be over. There isn’t an ant out there I can’t kill, okay?

It’s not about the ants, though. It’s never been about the ants. I have no problem with ants, they’re one of God’s creatures, like me. I am one of God’s creatures. But not all of God’s creatures are created equally. For instance, I am vastly more powerful than a mere ant. I was created in the image of God himself, ants were created in the image of some ugly freak, destined to be nothing but less than a creature.

But no, no. It’s not about the ants. It’s never been about the ants. They just served as a stepping stone. The first step.

Other bugs are trickier to manage. Flies fly around too much. And bees, they fly too much, too. Hornets, they fly. Beetles can sometimes fly. Yes, flight. The main appeal of an ant is that it cannot fly and frankly if I ever did see an ant fly I would probably throw up. But no, ants cannot fly, they are easy to take, and they are readily available.

This wasn’t an experiment in morals, this was an experiment in human ability and although I may have done some misdeeds I do believe history will exonerate me, like in the way it forgave Einstein for getting Marilyn Monroe addicted to heroin to make her the prettiest actress in all of Hollywood.

I procured an ant, trapped him in a lab dish. The ant looked at me, looked me dead in the eyes, as if he knew that he was in the process of becoming something greater, like in the way Abraham must have felt when he cut his penis in half hot-dog-style for God.

I do believe that, in some sort of primitive stupid fucking ant way, he knew. I nodded at him and he nodded back. I scribbled that into my notebook and began the experiment.

The first murmur I made was little more than a whisper, “aaah.” It didn’t seem to have an effect on the ant. I wrote that down. Next, I tried in a semi-hushed tone, “aaaah.” Nothing. Inside voice level, “aaaaahh.” Still nothing.

But don’t worry, I was expecting exactly this. You see, I was following the scientific method, making sure to cover all bases. I already knew that speaking at a regular volume would not kill an ant, if it did then ants would not exist. No, I did this for posterity.

I tried using my outside voice next, “aaaaaahhh.” I noted that his antennae twitched. Progress. I screamed at the ant. “Aaaah!” I startled him. I made note of that. “Aaaah!!” The ant furrowed his brow, he was in visible distress. I geared up for an even louder scream, “aaaaaaahhhh!!!” That’s when I saw it. Real, physical distress. Not only did the ant have a big frown on his face but he was also involuntarily convulsing. He was close, and I was close. We were both so close.

I readied myself, sucked in a mighty gale, clenched my asshole like a fist and unleashed myself upon him, the ant.

“Aaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!” And that’s when it happened. Its antennae twitched so fast they snapped off, white yellow insulation foam pooled out of its orifices, I knew this because I had a big-detectives-magnifying-glass that I was holding up to my eye while I was observing this phenomenon while also screaming. The ant’s head exploded, I made note of that. “A scream of four loudness directly at an ant causes it to die.”

I repeated this experiment thousands of times. My results were conclusive, you can kill an ant by screaming at it with four loudness. I sent my results to preeminent science journals, university professors, army men, and I was scoffed at, ridiculed.

That’s when my real ambitions began. It wasn’t enough to kill an ant, those disgusting little piece of shit ants. No. If I wanted to be taken seriously in the science world, I would have to kill the biggest bug of all, a United States Congressman.

So, I went step by step procuring bigger bugs, but the bigger the bug, the harder they got to kill.

After I’d killed just about every bug, I decided to try something bigger, a snail I found. But no matter how loud I screamed the snail would not die.

I quickly realized it was my voice that was limiting me. Man may yell at bug, but nothing more, so was our design by God. But then I got to thinking, what if I had something to supplement my voice? Something that would align with my vocal waves, synthesizing a sound loud enough to kill a congressman.

I made a big list of things that were loud: bullhorns, sirens, musical instruments. They were loud, sure, but not loud enough. I needed something louder, something so loud that it affected the way sound worked, something not just sonic but super-sonic, the sound of an explosion, an ear shattering boom. That’s when it dawned on me, a gun!

I got a gun and went back to the snail. I screamed as loud as I could and squeezed the trigger. Between my voice and the gun, the snail was dead instantly. That’s when I knew I was ready to visit my local congressman.

It was a beautiful day, he was in the park shaking hands. I made my way up to him, he said “hello, nice to meet you, can I count on your vote this November?”

I gave him a sly smirk then screamed at the top of my lungs. Everyone was looking, good, they should witness this, a scientific breakthrough in their own backyards.

I screamed louder, louder, he got concerned. His goons were walking up to me, that’s when I knew it was now or never. I reached down into my bowels and drew out a sound so loud it shook the leaves off of trees and also I took out my gun and shot him in the head.

He died instantly. Everyone was in shock, they had never heard sound weaponized in such a way.

Now, because I murdered the congressman, rule of law, I bested him, so I was bestowed his chair in congress. I quickly rose through the ranks of congress. Congress first class, congress staff sergeant, congress major, all the way up until I was speaker of the house.

Soon, universities all over the country were studying lethal sounds. I was hailed as a scientific genius and political maverick. When that Afghanistan thing broke out in 2001, I was the one who demanded soldiers be trained in the art of lethal sounds. The man who killed Bin Laden was screaming at the top of his lungs.

And now I stand here, on the campaign trail, in front of you good, salt-of-the-earth New Hampshire people, and I swear to God if you all don’t go out and vote for me right fucking now I will scream so loud into this microphone that all your heads will explode.