The ant is a masterpiece.
The ant is hatched, cared for, and lives.
His ant parents give him everything, ant toys and ant food.
He gets his own pet pupae dog, playing with sticky balls.
He goes to ant daycare, plays with ant carers.
And then he grows up.
He goes to ant school, makes ant friends, goes to ant exams.
He passes, he goes to ant university.
He rebels, he plays around in ant parties, wooing up ant females.
He gets drunk, he gets kicked out the ant door.
He stumbles with six feet, trips over one, and has an ant blackout.
The ant fails his exams, gets scolded by his parents.
He almost drops out.
He is looked down by his colony.
The ant goes through a tragedy.
He gets fired up, he studies, he passes his exams.
He has a newfound attitude to life.
He studies hard.
He graduates with a diploma in architecture.
He tries to find a job, fails, tries again, and gets one.
He becomes an assistant, but longs for a real job.
After long hours of work, he is given an opportunity.
He reveals his talents, painting a beautiful sketch of a gigantic skyscraper.
His bosses nod in approval, muttering praises here and there.
He oversees the work done on his magnum opus.
It is done, it towers over the people magnificently.
His work gains recognition, worldwide recognition.
It is beautiful, they say.
He gains celebrity status, asked to design more buildings.
He becomes rich in a short time.
He is very successful, they say.
He goes out to town, one day, with his Rolex watch.
People chatter about in the busy plaza.
He sits in a cafe, all lonesome,
Until he sees a beautiful lady.
Beautiful, he thinks, even more so than his creations.
He strides over to her, pulls up a chair.
He runs across the white corridor,
White walls, white doors.
His designer suit flies behind him,
Like a cape,
Like how his future child would comment later.
He barges in the room, he sees his wife in the bed.
His future child has arrived.
He announces that he’s home, and his children run up to him across their million dollar house.
He laughs, jokes around, placing his briefcase on the marble floor.
His wife watches behind the archway.
He meets her eyes and he grins.
His children are no longer children, now.
He wipes away a tear as his children waves him goodbye.
His wife leans on his shoulder, sighing.
They grow up so fast, she says.
He nods and agrees.
Call from the newspapers, his secretary says, they want an interview.
Tell them I’m free tomorrow, he replies.
He gets up from his latest design, and sighs.
He rests his head on his arms and places his legs on the desk.
He feels like he’s on top of the world.
But what the ant doesn’t know,
What the ant doesn’t realize,
Is that he’s one in a thousand billion.
He is only a single ant in a wasteland,
In the colony,
In the ant hill.
Soon, a boot will appear out of the sky,
And it will,