Chuck Norris he ain't

Recently, my brother and 5-year old niece came to visit us. One of the activities we did was geocaching. My bro' has the whole GPS thing and is really into it. I found that it's something I can do on my scooter as long as the cache isn't too far off the beaten track.

The first cache we went to was in a public park not too far from home. As we were searching for the cache, suddenly my niece started screaming. My brother ran over and grabbed her. She had been leaning against a tree right next to a fire-ant hill. Nasty critters.

Poor kid, she got her first fire-ant bite while out trying to have fun. Luckily, she only got one single bite on her hand. After seeing the seething ant hill she had been standing next to, she's one lucky kiddo.

After calming her down, she rode with me on my scooter to get to the next geocache. As we're walking, my brother says that he thinks he should get himself bitten by a fire-ant so he can know what his daughter just had to go through.

Okay, before y'all start "awwww'ing" over this seemingly genuine display of empathy, let me finish the story.

After we finish searching for local caches, we went to the park. As I'm watching my niece go down the slide, my brother comes over with a stick. On the stick is one single fire-ant.

His plan: to put the ant on his arm and let it bite him.

He calls over his daughter so she can watch him.

He puts the ant on his hairy arm. The ant proceeds to crawl over the hair trying to reach his skin.

Suddenly he yells and sweeps the ant off his arm.

Did he get bitten?

NO.

Why did he yell and fling the ant off his arm?

Because the suspense was killing him!

Oy.


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