End of the Ant Farm – Comfort #09O0oO

Posted on January 30, 2011


Public Enemy #1

The creator of the Ant Farm died today. Uncle Milton Levine, 97 years, father of the greatest innovation of the 50’s (sharing this honor with Super Glue, the Credit Card, the Pill).  It was the last thing Ramona told me before leaving that morning. She said, did you hear about the ant farmer dying?

After Party

After his death, a collective mass of Ants rejoiced that the craftsman of their modern prison had finally, after so many years, perished.  The Ants had been slowly starving Levine for years, stealing food from his pantry.  At the after party the Ants feast on the stolen morsels.  I find a pint of Cherry Garcia in the freezer, sit down, and listen to the blues until I fear I may be a blues song.


Levine was kind to ants, careful as to never step on a single one.  He often remarked that Ants were incredibly strong and may one day inherit the Earth.  The higher class Ants, hearing this on a human newscast, take quiet notes on the subject.  I cannot even lift the razor to shave, or to dab away the chocolate left on the sides of my mouth with a wash cloth.

Shifting Ideals

The Ants have turned their attention to new matters. They want to inherit the Earth.  They also want to see what is in the dumpsters behind the Burger Queen. Fries? Throw up with bits of cheeseburger? Is there a dead cat? Ants do so love dead cats.  I could kill Ramona’s cat, but the cat is long gone, moved covertly at night to a new apartment. Safe. Safe in a new place.

The End

Ants are self involved and dangerously unaware. If there is a storm and raindrops strike the ground, like so many comets, a single ant might believe that the world is coming to an end.  This is not entirely different from the way humans feel when someone leaves, as if the world is coming to an end.