Friday, August 31, 2012

The End of Antitude

And so it was that on the fifty fifth day, all the world’s ants were grappled by the tongues of all the world’s anteaters, and without further thought, quickly consumed. No longer would the ants be able to taunt the anteaters with cries of “missed me, missed me, now ya gotta kiss me” and a thousand other spiteful antish slogans. Nevermore would ants scratch words into the bark of the trees of anteater forests, pronouncing anteaters to be freaks of nature, unloved even by their mothers, rabid, patchy-furred Pinocchios.

It had been anteater Grblhausen who had rallied the species, who had set the scorn in motion which had soon gathered steam, turning quickly into anger, then malice, then outright hatred. And it was anteater Grblhausen to whom all the world’s anteaters flocked once the elimination of the enemy had been completed. A great cheer went up as the last anteater took his place at the rear of the throng; a cheer followed by a bellow of raspberries, delivered by tens of thousands of extra lengthy tongues.

“We have been set free” Grblhausen shouted above the crowd; “we have triumphed, and with the extermination of the anty race we will reclaim our prideful place among the kings and queens of the earth!”

The crowd nodded, and grinned, and tongued each other on the back for a job well done. Suddenly, one young anteater raised his snout and cried out for attention. Seeing the possibility of cementing their great victory within the hearts of an entire younger generation, Grblhausen demanded the lad be ushered to the stage so as to speak his piece; no doubt a childish but heartfelt treatise on the power of hatred and the thrill of ridding oneself of one’s scourge.

The young one did reach a place beside the elder anteater, and he did speak, though it was a question rather than a speech.

“I’m hungry” the littlest anteater said. “Anyone got anything to eat?”

It was some time before the anteaters had thought that question to its only logical conclusion. As the crowd moved menacingly toward the stage, Grblhausen was heard to shout, “Well we all may starve to death, but there won’t be any damn ants to knock over our gravestones! If there’s anything I can’t stand it’s an ant with an antitude!”

Once the world’s anteaters had hanged Grblhausen for being a moron, they all settled back to wait for extinction.

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