Mutillidae sounds like Mutilate.

My grandparents live on a massive hill. When I was a kid, that junk was basically a theme park. They had dogs to ride around on (they LOVED IT), a massive precipice looking over the rest of the town which I always planned to roll down, Reading Rainbow on EVERY TV, candy, and they even let me drive their golf cart through the woods. Also there were probably fireworks upon entrance.

The creators of this nirvana were none other than Didi and Pawpaw.

Their Names:
I couldn't say Dianne at a young age but still wanted to call her what I heard everyone else calling her, so Gramma - or whatever you normal people use - was out of the question.

I think the origin of Pawpaw's name is similar to most other boys' in the south. It's easy for babies to say and it makes one visualize a tough grandpa with an even tougher grandson. And they're gonna build a birdhouse together. For falcons.

One day, whilst meticulously eating Lucky Charms and playing with my totally awesome Hotwheels, I noticed a loud grinding noise from outside.

I hopped up to look through a small window and gaped at a tractor that was dumping huge mounds of dirt onto the grass. It only took seconds for the whole scenario to transform into "a nice man in a grown-up toy is giving me a playground". And since Pawpaw was directing the man in the tractor,  that was all I needed for a permission grant.

I grabbed my favorite toy trucks and made sure to pick up a few tiny toy soldiers - small enough to be run over - and bolted through the house to reach the dirt.

By the time I'd gotten there, the tractor was gone. I don't see how that happened, but I probably got distracted by a cool bug on the way.

Pawpaw grinned at me, which only proved that the dirt was a giant toy for me to play with. Before he left he told me something about being safe - whatever. That dirt was practically glowing with merriment, I didn't have time to take heed.

I plopped down in my new kingdom and surveyed all that was good. I began to play, mostly pounding the trucks into walls of dirt. And that's when I saw the coolest bug ever.

It was a prodigious ant, who crawled very slowly and was covered in bright red fur. That's right folks. It was furry.

It might as well have been a target. My wielded truck made a U-turn and made its way towards the newly dubbed Monster-Who-Will-Eat-Your-Babies. I had to save them.

Narrating at the appropriate moments, I reached the point where I was to run over the beast, but in a hasty decision, decided to draw out the execution by swerving to miss.

I made another turn and faced my prey, who was continuing its trek across the desert - unphased.

At about this time you're thinking "Oh no, that poor minuscule ant." But I'm here to tell you that you should never worry about these monsters.

I promptly smacked my little toy against the sumo-wrestler. Nothing happened. The ant trekked on, and if anything my truck was the one scarred, both physically and emotionally.

I stared down at the ant, trying to figure out what it's problem was. It should have complied to my death offer.

At that very moment, a caterpillar approached the dirt pile. Being very supportive of a real life bug that actually evolves like a Pokemon, I had no interest in hurting the little guy. But that didn't mean he still couldn't star in my play.

I plucked him from his obvious confusion and placed him gently in the bed of my truck - I had found my protagonist!

With that business handled, I scanned the playing field for my bad guy. He was nowhere to be found.

Readers, I'm going to let you in on some dramatic irony. I could not find the leviathan because he was on my arm. Okay, now let the scary commence!

I gave up too quickly on the search, and focused my attention on my truck driver. I debated whether or not he should get into a terrible crash, live, and become a super hero when something struck me. It was a flush of warm on my left arm. As I turned to see what it was, it escalated to pain. Horrible please-cut-it-off pain.

I turned to see the creature I had once loved and employed in one of my very first productions had taken a bite out of my arm.

I instinctively whipped my arm and flung him into who-knows-where, and began shrieking like a banshee.

Pawpaw came tearing around the house, his face pale white. When he saw me crumpled on the ground clutching my arm and bawling like a baby with no immediate danger in sight, the color returned to his face. He tentatively asked what happened to which I replied stupidly;

"I got bit by a ant."

He was not happy with me.

If you have never seen these ants, you are very lucky. I can't do it justice with a drawing and also the horror of the real thing may adequately wring out all of your sympathy for my ordeal.

And, in looking up the picture, I found out what blitzkrieged my arm all those years ago. It's a freaking WINGLESS WASP.

Mutillidae are a family of wasps whose wingless females resemble ants. Their common name velvet ant refers to their dense hair which may be red, black, white, silver, blue, or gold. Their bright colours serve as aposematic signals. They are known for their extremely painful sting, facetiously said to be strong enough to kill a cow, hence the common name cow killer or cow ant is applied to some species - Wikipedia

All in all, I may have deserved the sting - but whatever. It should have been a measly ant bite.

I basically got rick-rolled by nature.