Do insects experience fear? As I was shaving this morning (ol skool style: water in the sink, shaving cream, and a razor) a lone ant was making its way around the rim of the sink. Reasoning that it was probably a brave Scout surveying for the new cupcake-to-spilled-soda Inter-Room Speedway they were undoubtedly planning, I decided to cut him off at the pass. With one mighty flick, I set the ant plummeting into the sink thereby discouraging any future intrepid explorers.

Then, as I leaned down to dip my razor in the water, I noticed that my cursed enemy was, in fact, still alive, his many legs furiously beating at the water in what looked like abject terror and panic. That’s when my caveman instincts decided that now would be a good time for a little lunch. Seeing the ant struggle appealed to my greater sense of decency, causing me to reach down and fish him out. He immediately grabbed on to me, probably figuring that the giant pink thing from the sky was a hell of a lot better than drowning. I placed him gently on the counter and watched as he shook himself dry and sped off happily. I admonished him to tell his friends to not expect the same kind of clemency, but I think he knew I was fibbing.