What a rush

Life can't get much better than this, says one ant to another. We have food and shelter and all things good, and we're two of thousands of brothers. But then a child arrives at their gate, a soda pop in hand. He'd come with a mischievous gait, and in his eyes thirst for land. So he dumps his soda over the anthill, and it splashes and blocks our sight. But in an instant we can see them there, happy ants riding coke at height. You'd think they'd be horrified, terrified, petrified. But really they're indemnified. For though they lost their sandy home, coke's their crack, they snort the foam.


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