Another story for y'all!

Well, I've decided to post since I was feeling guilty for having Katie do all the work. Lol. So this is the first chapter from a story I started that turned out very bad. This is the only part I even slightly like in it, and even so it's kind of disturbing and dark for me. But also kind of funny, in a morbid way. I'm no longer working on my Gypsy Princess story, unfortunatly, but I will post more of it if you want me to. Anyway, tell me what you think. And it's alright if all you can think is "Whoa...weird." :-)

Chapter One
In which the Ants are killed and so are the humans

“John,” said Mrs. Ingleton, waddling into the kitchen, “We really must do something about that ant problem!”
“Whatever you say dear,” said John, who’s head was buried in the newspaper, which evidently he enjoyed looking at far more than his wife. Mrs. Ingleton sighed and bent over to scratch one of the red ant bites on her large legs.
“I mean, look at this John! Just look!” she said, thrusting her leg into the newspaper to point out the several oozing ant bites.
John didn’t bother looking. All he said was “I’m very sorry dear, you’re the one who wanted this house. Why, I have no idea. It’s way to big for just the two of us, I’ve told you all along.”
Mrs. Ingleton sighed with exasperation. “But that's not the point John, the point is, we really must do something about those ants!” When her husband didn’t move, she stomped away saying, “fine! I’ll take care of it! But if I end up killing us both it’s you’re fault!” John looked up to see her go with a look of profound relief. He heard the car engine start up, and then drive away. He sighed and looked at his watch. It was 10;30 on a Saturday morning. Really, John wasn’t one to mind ants. In a way, they were the only company he enjoyed, him being such a quiet man and all. He thought it would be a shame to have them all sprayed dead, but he supposed that was just the way it would have to be. Mrs. Ingleton ruled the roost, so to speak. He almost enjoyed seeing her suffer from the ants. Almost, but not quite, for John was a good man, in most things. He scratched his head and wondered what was for lunch. Didn’t really matter, as he wasn’t one to love food. In fact, he didn’t love much at all these days.
About an hour later, he heard the car drive back in. He sighed and sat back down with his newspaper, waiting for his peace and quiet to be shattered once again. But Mrs. Ingleton didn’t come inside. She went strait around the house and took the bottle of ant killer she had bought at the hardware store. With a vicious smile, the large woman began spraying all over the large ant holes on the hill. When she had finished, she went inside with a satisfied smile, sure the ants wouldn’t be bothering her again. And she was right, they didn’t, but something much worse did.
John watched her out of their glass door. It bothered him that she would kill such innocent bugs so ruthlessly, but he supposed it was better than killing innocent humans, if by only a little. He saw her heading back towards the house and quickly turned back to his newspaper, but just as he was turning his head, he thought he saw something green moving outside. He turned back to look and gaped with astonishment, for all over the yard, and especially in places where Mrs. Ingleton had sprayed, the grass was growing at a phenomenal rate. By the time Mrs. Ingleton had gotten into the house the grass was a good twelve inches. It had grown ten inches is one minute. “Astonishing,” said John, rubbing the back of his head. He wondered what had been in the ant killer.
Mrs. Ingleton entered the house panting a little with the effort of the walk. She was surprised to see John standing openmouthed at the glass doors. He appeared to be looking at something with astonishment. Mrs. Ingleton felt peeved. He could at least say thank you to her for going out and getting the ant killer couldn’t he? What was he looking at? He ought to be looking at her! She had noticed that he didn’t look at her much these days.
“I’m home!” she said in a loud voice, “and that's the end of our little friend the ants!” John gave no answer. “John what are you looking at?” she said irritably.
“I’ve never seen the like!” said John. “come look at this dear. I’m afraid there was something wrong with that ant killer.”
“What do you mean there was something wrong? It’s ant killer, it kills ants!” With annoyance she thumped over to stand beside him. And gasped. Clutching his arm, she stared in growing trepidation as the now going on 20 inch grass continued to grow, and at the same time seemed to be groping toward the house in a sort of blind way. It was all leaning towards the house, as if there was something inside it wanted. Which of course there was. Mrs. Ingleton.
Several hours later, Mrs. Ingleton and John sat blockaded in their bedroom. Mrs. Ingleton sat on the bed, rocking with fear. The bed springs sounded like they were having a heart attack. John calmly watched as the first huge, long thread of grass squeezed through the floor boards and past the piled boxes by the door. It stood for a moment, getting it’s bearings. It was far taller then John, and seemed to be almost human, although it had no face. It began to rap around John. Another piece of grass popped through the floor by the bed, and Mrs. Ingleton screamed. The house rumbled ominously as the grass twinned around it, both inside and out. John thought how it had never occurred to him he could be killed by grass. He thought it would be an interesting experience. The grass had nearly reached his neck, and he couldn’t move. Mrs. Ingleton screamed one more time, and then all was silence.

Drama_Queen