King of the Woods, or Trivial Pursuit

Part 4 - Owl

Ray brought the Snickers to his lips. It bit him. "Oww!" 

He dropped the carnivorous candy and regretted the decision when it landed on his crotch. He kicked his chair away from the desk. One of the chair's wheels snapped. Ray toppled over, cleared the Snickers with a pelvic thrust, and crab-walked to safety. His injuries were limited to a reddish welt on his hand and a smudge of chocolate on his pants. The candy bar swarmed with carpenter ants (camponotus floridanus, he recalled).

"What are you guys doing out this late? It's almost noon," Ray said.

The ants harvested caramel, apparently ignoring the chocolate. One raised its head and waved its antennae at him.

Ray stuck his index fingers on his forehead and waggled them. 

The ant waved its antennae faster.

"Lo siento, no hablo ant." Ray slid a manila folder beneath the ants and their treasure and opened his window. A line of ants were climbing to meet their comrades. He lowered the folder and shook the ants off into the bushes. 

T-t-t-t-t-t went the jackhammer. The operator removed asphalt around a pine tree's exposed roots.

"Hey," Ray said. "You should talk to an arborist first. You could kill the tree."

The operator pointed to his ear protection and shrugged. 

Ray pantomimed removing ear protection. 

The operator pantomimed removing ear protection, then flipped Ray off.

Ray winced. Another welt formed near his wrist. He caught the perpetrator fleeing the scene. The ant struggled mightily between Ray's thumb and forefinger. 

"Don't push me." Ray puffed the ant off his fingertip. It disappeared in a sea of its fellows, none the worse for wear.

-

Ray rapped his chair's broken wheel on Carol Martin's door, eliciting a shriek. "Carol? It's me."

"Come in," Carol said. "Close the door."

Pictures of grinning grandchildren warred with loosely-Biblical inspirational posters for dominion over Carol's office. Seventeen porcelain kittens gamboled across her desk. Carol's mascara was runny, and her breath came in gasps, jangling costume jewelry purchased from the multi-level-marketing scheme that Carol pushed on her coworkers. She white-knuckled a pair of scissors.

"Does your chest hurt? Should I get Byron?" Ray was only certified for pet first aid. Byron was a paramedic or an EMT; Ray couldn't remember which.

Carol held up a hawk-shaped, cutout silhouette that was missing its head. "Look what you made me do. You'll frighten an old woman, banging on the door like that."

"Sorry." Sorry for interrupting arts and crafts time, Ray thought.

Carol wiped her eyes and nose with a lavender-scented Kleenex. "I'll print another one. How can I help you?" She lowered her voice. "This isn't about the sexual harassment, is it? Karen complained. In writing."

"She did?" Presumably to get back at Steve for mocking Byron, he thought.

"I can have a talk with Steve, if you think it's necessary." Carol clearly didn't think so.

Ray shook his head. "Steve is just messing around."

"Glad that's settled. I'll let you get back to work." Carol gestured to her door.

Ray put the wheel on her desk next to an orange tabby. It dwarfed the kitten like a boulder looming over an archaeologist. "I would like a new chair, please."