Honeycomb Moon

Antsy May 6, 2012

Aunt Ant was feeling antsy and growing increasingly tired of her nephew Anthony’s antics. “This is no way for an ant to behave,” she told him, but like other ants his age he paid no attention when given direction or correction, especially by someone as small and insignificant as Aunt Ant.

“I’m heading back to The Hill,” Aunt Ant told Anthony, giving up. “Do what you want, I don’t care anymore.” And she turned her back on him and began the long trek back to the anthill – home – muttering to herself the whole way.

Anthony watched her go and then turned to his friends, smug. “She’s gone, ” he said. “And she won’t be back. We’re free. what should we do?”

“I saw a picnic going on earlier. Lots of kids and crumbs,” Anton suggested.

“Naw, I’m not hungry,” said Anthony.

“We could climb trees or practice marching single file,” Antwerp suggested.

“You guys aren’t very creative,” Anthony said.

“Oh, like you are.” Anton gave Anthony a playful shove, not too hard because he knew his friend was stronger and didn’t want to annoy him, just tease a little. “I don’t see you coming up with any ingenious ideas.”

Anthony, sure he could do better on his own, just shook his head. “I should have gone home . . .”

Meanwhile, Aunt Ant had just arrived back at The Hill. She put down her load with a sigh. Her husband, Antares was sitting in his usual spot, his eyes closed, a few stray crumbs littering the floor at his feet. “That boy’s gonna’ be the death o’ me,” she told Antares.

Antares didn’t even bother looking up. “Boys will be boys,” was all he said, as always dismissive of his wife’s concerns. Aunt Ant, for her part, mostly ignored Antares anyway, and when she did speak to him it was only because she had something to say, not because she was particularly interested in his feedback.

Aunt Ant left Antares to his business, which was mostly doing nothing, just as he was now. Antares was certainly not the clichéd industrious little ant that everyone hears so much about. He was lazy, not very friendly, inclined to bite, and got along with almost no one on The Hill, including his wife. He was tolerated only because, well, that’s what ants did.

Before heading out to find Antoinette, her best friend, Aunt Ant, as over-responsible as Antares was not to be counted on, stopped to check on the ant cows, which had to be carefully tended in their pen. She wasn’t sure who was supposed to be on duty tonight and didn’t recognize the two young ants posted at the gate. But they seemed to be doing their job, so Aunt Ant just nodded a friendly greeting and went on her way, satisfied that not all young ants were as irresponsible as her own nephew.

Thinking of the wayward Anthony, Aunt Ant muttered the whole was to Antoinette’s cubby, looking forward to sharing her complaints and maybe a sip of sweet wine and a crumb or two.

We’ll Be There Before We Leave April 28, 2012

Annette stepped onto the little plank that the dragonfly put out for her. It was just wide enough for her feet (no room to make a mistake, hovering over the abyss as she was) and didn’t feel at all sturdy. “Are you sure this is safe?” she asked the dragonfly, who was supposed to be her guide on this part of the journey.

“Absolutely!” the dragonfly assured her. “And besides, there’s no other way to get to where you want to go.”

Annette closed her eyes and willed her knees to stop shaking.  “How long?” she asked.

“We’ll be there before we leave,” the dragonfly told her. “It will take no time at all, but could be as long and tedious as you decide it will be.” The dragonfly shrugged its iridescent shoulders. “Me? I’d choose quick and easy over long and tedious any day, but the choice is yours.”

Annette nodded and tried not to think of the dark, unknown depths beneath the narrow plank on which she balanced. “OK,” she said, “quick and easy it is.” She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. In front of her was a door . . . and the door was open! All she had to do was to step across the threshold.

Annette turned to thank the dragonfly, but it had vanished.

Fine When Not April 11, 2012

Once Phil learned how to lie, really lie, had practiced so long and hard that he could lie  in his sleep, he forgot how to tell the truth. When asked how he was feeling he’d pronounce himself “fine” when not, and “terrible” when all was well. He could no longer fill in forms because he only made up fictitious names, and never the same name twice. He could no longer exchange addresses, phone numbers, or pleasantries with friends or new acquaintances. Because of this, Phil got into the habit of carrying little cards with all of his personal information on them and handing them out rather than replying. His wife had ordered the cards for him online. “Thanks, but no thanks,” he told her when she gave them to him, and she knew he appreciated her thoughtfulness.

As hard as Phil tried, he could not stop lying. His brother told him that’s what happens when you become expert at something, you can’t help yourself. But Phil knew better. This was not about proficiency and it was more than an addiction; it was an uncontrollable compulsion and it made him miserable.

Pretty soon Phil stopped talking altogether, in order to avoid upsetting those closest to him and alienating potential business prospects. Though his wife soon learned that “I don’t love you” actually meant he did, his mother never got used to hearing those words and she cried each time, even though he hugged her as he spoke. Likewise, business associates who did not know him and didn’t understand his malady flinched and ran the other way when he told them how miserable he was working with them.

Gravity Repealed! April 4, 2012

Albert, sitting in his cell, remembered clearly the day the Law of Gravity was repealed. Congress had met in a special session and the men, along with the two token women members, had placed their considerable hubris on display by declaring, after hours of sustained and vociferous partisan bickering, that gravity was now optional and would no longer be guaranteed for all citizens. No more entitlements! they said. From now on anyone who wanted gravity to work for them would have to pay for it, dearly. A Gravity Tax was imposed on all citizens, effective immediately.

The poor, of course, were the most affected by the change. It was claimed that, in the first week following the repeal of the Law of Gravity, whole families, unable to pay the new Gravity Tax, simply floated away, never to be seen or heard from again. The media reported these stories with relish and citizens began to panic. People were scared  into doing things they might never have done otherwise in order to get the funds necessary to avoid a horrible fate. Stealing, cheating, and going without necessities, like food and shelter, became commonplace in order to pay the tax.

It never occurred to anyone, including Albert, that the stories might be made-up and that congress had no authority – or power – to repeal the Law of Gravity. Such was the might of the government at the time. Albert, being one of the poor, grudgingly took up a life of petty crime so he and his family could remain firmly on the planet.

Cat Kills Curiosity April 4, 2012

The cat killed curiosity, then picked it up and carried it inside, dropping it in the parlor, at her master’s feet.

The cat’s master was a tall, broad man, with an abrupt manner and a deep, gruff voice. “Eh, what’s this, old girl?” he asked as he leaned forward to see what she had dropped on his fine and expensive Oriental rug. Instead of being upset, the man gave a deep chuckle and tickled the cat roughly behind the ears. “Ha! Killed a little curiosity, I see. Well done, well done!” The man could not abide curiosity in any form and he quickly called to one of the servants, a young girl, to clean up the mess. “Be sure to get it picked up immediately,” he told her, ” before it stains.”

When the man went back to his reading the servant girl rolled her eyes and made a face at the cat. But she did as she was told, picking up the now cold and rigid curiosity, tossing it in the toilet, and flushing it away before it could damage the master’s precious rug. It was amazing the mess a dead curiosity could make if it wasn’t taken care of right away, and how angry the master could become if his orders were not carried out perfectly.