I saw an ant in the toilet one day. He was a cute, friendly brown ant. You know, the kind with big eyes and a huge smile? Yup. That's him. So he was just running along (all ants run along don't you know?) on the brown sand-washed toilet tiles with a few other antsy friends when I saw him pause a moment.
Guess what he was carrying.
Arh. It was a dead ant. Poor ant. I went off my throne and gave his friend a few seconds of silence. Then I went back on. The throne. Yeah. Poor filial ant. I should have squashed him.
Two seconds later I spotted a few sneaky crawlers. The black ants of the kitchen prairie's pride. They came crawling over the Higher Tiles, obviously alluding to some kind of grand rank. GRAH. They went off. I had an instinct to squash them. But I didn't. They went off.
Aha. Then what did I do? I gave a royal flush, took off the suit, and turned on the shower. After awhile I realised that there were ants in the presence of the Lower Toilet Tiles. I guessed they died. Just. Died. Like that. The tsunami washed them away and all.
Were they thinking, Where's God? My friend just died and now you send a huge tidal wave that came from the Greater Walls which washed us ALL away? Are you really THERE AT ALL?
Nah they weren't thinking that. I love ants because they are in tune with God's higher purpose and they live well, work hard, and love defi-antly no matter what circumstances, and they don't hijack their own happiness.
Dear Ants, I wished I can hug you all but you are too small and I don't want to squash you. Reub Out and God bless.
Yeah.
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