At the house I used to live in, my roommates had this friend named Erik who hung out a lot. Most of the time we would get 20 packs of beer and drink until we all passed out (exciting life, I know). So this one time Erik came over with his hand & wrist bandaged up. Apparently his friends had gotten their truck stuck somewhere, and in helping them try to get it out, he had gotten his hand run over. The skin had mostly ripped right off. That night we were all drinking as usual, and we all crashed out as usual. Erik passed out on the floor in my roommate's bedroom. I think now is a good time to mention how disgustingly filthy my old house was. It was bad. Really bad. The boys would trash the house and being the only girl there I would often clean it but sometimes I just got so sick of it that I would only clean my own room and bathroom and let the rest go. So anyhow, fast forward to the next morning, when Erik wakes up with a strange sensation on his hand. He remembers how he got it run over... and then he recalls how dirty our house was....... and then he looks at his hand to see TONS of ants covering it, running in and out under the bandage! Yum! That's just one of those stories I never want to forget, so I thought I'd share.