I have no Idea

         He stood there hunched over, gasping for air. His chest heaving in and out with each labored breath. A quick cough came to his mouth spewing flecks of mucus. He lifted his right arm to wipe away the snot dripping from the tip of his nose. With a deep drawn inhale through the nasal cavity, he tried to pull the dangling slime to the back of his throat. Once satisfied with amount in his mouth, he began to mix it with what little saliva he could produce. He forced himself once more, to pull down another deep labored breath. All the while his mind was judging distance and gaugeing wind compensation. Filling his lungs to capacity and not being able choke down any more air, he arched his back, and squared off his shoulders. Arms dangling to the side.  His abdomen clenched with a voracious wrench as the air within his lungs mounted in explosive pressure. Having compressed the air to such an extent of a modern day boiler, his mouth erupted in a whirlwind of snot and saliva. The concussion of the force set gnats swirling around his mouth in disarray like shot down fighter pilots. The lugee sailed through the air leaving dribbles of moisture in its wake. Unsuspecting ants below fell prey to the rogue droplets of Armageddon. They tried to scurry this way and that as their arch nemesis tormented them with visions of drowning in a sticky green pool. The lugee having reached its apex of flight began to descend. Being indiscriminate of its destination, the man made liquid rocket poised itself for impact toward its earthy target.  The assailant didn't give a single thought toward the destruction it would cause. Nay. It's mind must remain a blank slate to perform the evil deed. It was righteous and self justified in its manners of mayhem and disention. On the horizon, a lone target could be seen by the human snot torpedo. Frantically, the ant hill tried to escape the impending havoc. God, in all his cruelty didn't bless the pantheon of sand with the gift of mobility, so it stood there motionless as the descending horror zeroed in. Being stricken with terror was only the beginning to this onslaught of exoskeleton heroes. The greenish yellow bomb made contact with the arthropod's masterpiece of engineering with a deafening thud. Sand pellets and errant ants alike exploded into the air surrounding the small temple called home. What ants were left on the surface of gaia quickly became emotionally scarred at this heinous act of defilement and malevolence. This day will forever live in infamy in the remnants of hearts and minds of our six legged gatherers. Henceforth, it shall be known as The day a human spit on our home. You shall rue the day bipedal harbinger of death. We will never forget.