Those pesky ants

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I called on a customer just off I-75 the other day. He followed me out to the parking area beside the store. There, I noticed a couple of large anthills.
"I've tried just about everything I know to get rid of these ants," said my customer. "I even put grits on them." For a second, I thought he had said he put grits on the ants, but you'd have to be a little touched to do something like that, and my customer is without doubt of sound mind.
I know a lot about grits. I know they are misunderstood. The reason people from regions other than the south don't like grits is that they have never had them prepared properly. They are traveling through the south and stop at a diner for breakfast and the waitress serves them grits with their eggs and bacon. They're probably instant grits to begin with, and I'm sure it's in the Bible somewhere that instant grits are an unholy hybrid of the real thing.
Also, our travelers don't know to put butter and salt on their grits and then stir their eggs and bacon into them and salt and pepper to taste. So their grits taste awful. And when they return home, they are asked, "Did you have any grits?" And they say, "The worst thing we ever ate. Almost ruined our trip to Disney World."
But grits on an anthill? "You didn't really put grits on these ant beds did you?" I said to my customer. "That's exactly what I said," he responded. "Putting grits on ant beds is an old remedy for getting rid of ants."
"Giving northerners unbuttered grits is an old remedy for getting rid of tourists, too," I said. "What's supposed to happen," my customer went on, "is the ants try to eat the individual little grits and they get so full they explode and die."
I've heard of other old remedies. I know if you put tobacco juice on a bee sting, it will stop hurting. I know to put a pork chop around a mean child's neck to get the dog to play with him. I know if you bury a dishrag under a full moon, your warts will go away. But grits on an anthill? So I asked, "How are the grits working on the ants?"
"These ants," answered my customer, "don't seem to be interested in grits."
"Ah hah," I said. "They're northern ants." "How do you know?" he asked. "Elementary," I said. "They refuse to eat grits and look how many of them are wearing sandals with black socks."
I told my customer not to worry about the ants. They'd be on their way to Disney World in a matter of days.
Elroy Riggs