You chose to start spitting out the ants.

You begin spitting out as many ants as you can. Tiny, saliva covered troopers are hurled from your face with such force and anger that you practically hear the collision between their tiny frames and the brutally hard ground. You keep going, you keep spitting. Ants keep coming, climbing your paws and legs and neck to get to your face as you continue your spitting onslaught.

Your mouth begins to dry right as you stop feeling the defeated warriors climbing your paws and legs and neck. You look at the ground to see massacre. Your anthill invasion has toppled a kingdom. Ants wiggle in spit and their own defeat, trying to scatter back to their home, which is now gone because of you.

You choose to…