You scramble around the concrete on all six of your legs when your chemical receptors detect sugar. Holy crap this is some sweet shit.
You can’t even wait. In fact, you are compelled not to wait, for the queen will not be denied. You immediately work your way back to the colony, dropping a pheromone trail along the way.
“Awww shit, y’all,” your pheromone trail says. “Y’all best come get some of this sticky-sweet goodness I found. Shit ain’t gonna last all day.”
As you knew it would, your pheromone trail brings all the girls to the yard, because we all know only girls are good for working and fighting and men are only good for that one thing and then they can fuck off and quite literally die.
You and your crew swarm all over the sticky sweetness, which you soon realize may be a little too sticky, as in you can’t move. The queen commands you to return with sticky sweetness, but your legs are stuck in the green sticky sweetness and you can’t move. None of the other girls can move either. You have led your colony to ruin.
You wish you could take all those pheromones you said back, but it’s too late; they’re out there in the open now. The pheromone is out of the bag, your colony is going to die, and it is all your fault.
Good job, Pam.