Monday, June 02, 2008

Thinking Small

Hey, I have an idea!  Tonight, why don't we wander over to The Java Junction (formerly known as the Muffin Hut back before everyone decided they needed to go all low-carb)?  I hear that it's Amateur Poetry Night and we all know how much fun that can be, right?  

We all dutifully troop down the block (some of us more willingly than others since not everyone has such highbrow tastes, but no one wants to look like a poor sport).  We enter the Java Junction (formerly known as The Muffin Hut back before that guy accidentally ate the paper stuff that the muffins come in and there was that nasty lawsuit)  The last poet of the evening is being introduced.  

All right, you hep cats, let's snap it out for our newest local poet!  Tonight, we are privileged to hear the wordly wanderings of Little Sheepish Annie, who is joining us for the very first time.  Make her feel real welcome, now.  She's just a little nervous, what with this being her debut and all.  She's also kinda miffed about not being allowed to bring along that bongo player she'd invited to accompany her, but we told her that this sort of thing had been done to death.  Here she is, folks...Little Sheepish Annie!

Little Sheepish Annie tentatively climbs onto the makeshift stage area.  She is wearing a lovely frock which sports lace at the cuffs and a Peter Pan collar and which was clearly selected by her mother for the occasion.  For reasons that probably made sense at the time, her mother also saw fit to braid her hair tightly to complete the look and her eyes are being forcibly pulled just slightly off kilter.  Her shoes are scuffed and one is untied.  LSA clears her throat nervously, smooths out the crumpled notebook pages which have been clenched in her trembling hands and takes a deep, shaky breath:

Um...this is my poem.  If I Were An Ant.  By me.  Little Sheepish Annie...ahem!

If I were an ant
I'd probably spend more time in the kitchen instead of in the living room.

If I were an ant
I'd be smart enough to know that this is where the food is.

If I were an ant
I'd be in the kitchen probably wondering why the big person who lives here doesn't just give up and dump out that bowl of Very Expensive Organic Cat Food That The Big, Fluffy Kitty Won't Eat Because All She Wants Is Greenies Treats.

If I were an ant
I'd also be wondering why the big person who lives here hasn't noticed that we won't eat it either.

If I were an ant
and I were stupid enough to spend all day in the living room, I'd probably know better than to wander around by those big, gigantic, sandal-clad feet.

If I were an ant
I wouldn't find the left foot appealing enough to walk on.

If I were an ant
and so inclined as to walk on big, gigantic left feet, I'd probably take a minute to see the fifty million of my brethren lying dead around that particular foot.

If I were an ant
I'd never, ever walk across the computer screen while a movie is playing.  I'd know that this will only serve to call attention to me.  And that it is rude.

If I were an ant
I'd know better than to walk across computer screens and feet while someone is trying to knit a scarf.  Even if fifty million others did it.  

If I were an ant
I'd have more appreciation for knitting.  And I wouldn't give in to peer pressure.

If I were an ant
I'd probably not have that "no man left behind" mentality.  I'd leave all my stupid dead cousins and great uncles scattered across the carpet and get the heck away from there.

If I were an ant
I'd probably be elected Prime Minister Of The Ants because I am so smart and know better than to do stupid things like leave the kitchen or walk across big left feet.

If I were an ant
I'd be better at it than the rest of the ants.  Because I see the problems that most ants don't.

The End

LSA takes a quick bow and, after pausing to wave frantically to her mother who is manning the video camera from the back of the Java Junction (formerly known as The Muffin Hut back  before the ants showed up and one or twenty of them got accidentally baked into a batch of the Death By Chocolate muffins).  She stumbles from the stage, blushing furiously at the spattering of applause and snapping of fingers she receives for her poetic efforts.

That's it for tonight, folks!  We here at The Java Junction (formerly known as The Muffin Hut back before the manager failed to recognize the Health Inspector at the door and accidentally blew his nose on one of the pot holders) hope you enjoyed our night of poetry.  Tomorrow night, we'll hold our weekly knitting circle where anyone and everyone who wants to settle in with a nice cuppa joe and a pair of needles can come hang out with like-minded peers.  Just remember that you'll have to bring your own snacks, 'kay?  We here at the Java Junction (formerly known as the Muffin Hut back before any number of unlucky and ill-timed things happened) no longer have a license to serve food.

Thanks and drive safe, everyone!

SA  (who is currently engrossed in the composition of her next epic poem, "Where The Heck Did All These Stupid Ants Come From???")


=Tamar said...

OH, sympathy. Ants leave trails that are the equivalent of a map, so if you can find the likely entrance points (windows, doors, wall cracks) you can wash all the trails away and baffle the hordes. Non-poisonous Borax powder discreetly spread will show which side of it they're coming from (and kill them too, by mechanically cutting through their exoskeletons).

Ants contain some kind of vitamin I think; some cultures routinely eat them.

trek said...

Oh, blech!

Donna Lee said...

I feel hatred for the ants. They come out of nowhere and then disappear like little ninjas. All dressed in black in a row, if ninjas were stupid which I'm pretty sure they aren't. And I don't get the Zen of Zimmerman. I think she was a genius and maybe that's the problem. I am not a genius.

Mel said...

They have yet to descend upon our home. I suspect it'll happen the very day that we're inviting all our wedding guests to come see our lovely abode.

Karen said...

Have you seen the new show on the Discovery Channel? It's called Verminators. After watching that you'd be happy with the ants...

MathIsBeauty said...

I HATE ants. I finally got rid of most of this year's hoard.
I guess the flies will be here soon to take their place.

Melissa said...

thanks...I'm all itchy now!!!

Mia said...

Hey, I was just about to look up a "get rid of ants" remedy myself.. but after that lovely poem, I think I'll just wait for the next installment and see how it goes :)

debsnm said...

I thought of you last night, dear SA. I was watching Planet Terror (part of Grindhouse). Planet Terror's zombies are most definately NOT slow and stupid. They run and can work power tools. If you don't mind a little (ok, a lot) gore, it's a great horror movie by Quentin Tarrentino and Robert Rodriguez. It'll make your zombie experience more rounded. Oh, and help with the ants, too.

Knitting Linguist said...

I am going to post that poem on our refrigerator for the ants to read. You think they'd learn. Seriously.

catsmum said...

I'm just glad that it's winter here and so no ants.
Remember where I live?
slap in the middle of 10 acres populated by vast colonies of every ant thta makes it's home in Central Victoria
which is a lot

and a fabulous poetic debut !

Anonymous said...

Our county library sponsors a poetry slam every year for the teenagers, but all are welcome. Shall I sign you up? That poem was epic, to say the least.

Anonymous said...

Ants suck! But your poem doesn't :)