This is how I make my art. The crucible is hot, and my respirator is, contrary to what the comments may say, properly rated. I begin to place the scrap into the firey hole one by one. They suspect nothing.
Fun fact: Fire ants are invasive. According to the Department of Agriculture, they wreak about $8 billion in damages per year. They are a goddamned plague, the first horseman. I'm a son of Asgard, stopping the coming apocalypse.
Nah, I'm really just a drama queen. Maybe I could be considered a content creator, or a sculptor. Wait, is this sculpting? I'm not removing material. The closest equivalent I can think of would be 3D printing, but that's not art. The modelling is. That would make the ants the artists, I guess.
People still pay good money for this shit. Some of them are pretty dumb though- one of them asked if I could do it in gold. GOLD. Specifically they asked about "24 karat" gold. I told them that it would probably deform a bit in shipping. They said it'd be fine. I gave them a quote for a couple hundred thousand dollars, and they backed out.
Depending on the size, the aluminum ones go from a couple hundred dollars to a thousand. A couple of museums bought from me, which I was happy about. Teaching kids about ants is great!
I stick in one last chunk; it oughta be enough. The ants are already trying to swarm out; they feel the heat. I get to a safe distance and tug on my rope to trigger the pour. About 60 pounds of molten aluminum and slag pour into the anthill; none can escape. There's little to no buildup; this one is gonna be big. I look at my phone. It's hooked up to the camera I've got focused on the nest. They never do real numbers, but I make enough ad revenue and buyers to keep me afloat. I have a full time job aside from this, of course, but the extra cash is always nice.
I feel itchy. I look down at my hand, and I'm covered in fire ants.
"SON OF A BITCH!" I shout as I leap up, flailing around like I'm on fire, because they're biting the everloving shit out of me. I'm supposed to be a professional, damnit! I run and roll for a while, brushing off ants by the hundreds at first, then they start to deplete. The crucible is empty, but I can't see anything except for a small brush fire, which I stomp out.
Ants are pouring from the anthill now that the inital clog is over with. I consider for a moment, and call it a loss. Only about a hundred bucks' worth of aluminum. I pack up my camera and walk to the car, where I film the wrap-up of the video. It's edited and posted a couple hours later, and gets a pretty big influx. I guess the algorithm liked that one. I head down to the comment section.
"holy shit why would you do that to them? Poor things :("
"deserved, you go king!!!!"
"will there be a part 2 where you dig it out?"
One stands out to me as funny.
"You better watch your back, bro, pretty sure you just put those guys into the stone age, maybe even the bronze age with all that aluminum. who knows how fast they're gonna get tech? ants are pretty smart."
I give it a heart, and a pin, but pause when I hear whirring. I fucking hate this apartment; it seems like my neighbours are putting up pictures all the time. I bang on the wall and it seems to subside.
I scroll down a bit. Another good comment, though a bit more creative than the first, by a guy named "anton#10293036".
"fuck u assshole, i know ehre you live, mi coming for you."
Yeah, not that humorous, but it's the kind of thing where it's funnier when you see it for yourself.
That damned whirring again!
Before I have the chance to stand up and bang on the wall, the ceiling caves in on me, and a positive horde of ants lands on me and starts to bite the shit out of me.
I ran out of the house, but I couldn't turn off my computer because I'm a fucking moron. You won't find my channel now, it's gone. The ants got my passwords and deleted it.
I'm still outside, itching like crazy and the neighbours are too.
I guess I learned my lesson; don't fuck with fire ants. They're mean bastards.
THAT'S RIGHT YOU LITTLE FUCK. WE'LL GIVE YOU THE PASSWORD TO YOUR GMAIL WHEN YOU RECORD A REAL APOLOGY AND DRIVE A CAKE OUT TO OUR ANTHILL.
-ANTON#1030000