By P.K. Silverson
© Copyright 2008
By The Author
All Rights Reserved
On a bright, clear summer’s day not so long ago, a fine young grasshopper was hop-hop-hopping his way through the tender sprouts of new flowers down in the meadow of a quiet little dell. The sun was shining in the heavens above, where ever-dangerous birds circled lazily.
All was right with the world.
The grasshopper could hear his cricket cousins chirping merrily in the tall grass. So he skipped along quickly, eager to join them at play. “Perhaps,” he allowed himself to think, “I will even be able to find a pretty little June bug to call my own.”
So caught up in his thoughts and his haste was the fine young grasshopper that he quite forgot to watch where he was going. In short order, he came upon a column of worker ants, who had important business of their own to attend.
“Hey, watch out, you big oaf,” a very disturbed little black ant cried in anger as the fine young grasshopper crashed into him, knocking a heavy load from his shoulders.
“I’m terribly sorry,” the fine young grasshopper apologized politely as he helped the little black ant back to his feet. He brushed meadow dust from the flustered ant’s body. “I was hurrying to meet my cousins, the crickets,” he explained. “They’re playing hide-and-seek in the tall grass.”
“As if I really care,” sniffed the little black ant. “I’ve got important work to do.”
“What could be so important on a beautiful day like today?” the fine young grasshopper wondered.
“I have to store up food for the coming winter,” the little black ant answered, grunting as he lifted the heavy load back onto his shoulders.
“Why?” the fine young grasshopper asked. He fell into step beside the little black ant who had started once again toward his home in the base of a grand old tree at the edge of the meadow in the quiet little dell.
“Because that’s the rule,” the little black ant answered, more than just a little irritated by the distraction the fine young grasshopper was creating.
“Oh,” said the fine young grasshopper, not really understanding, but not wanting to seem a complete dolt either.
“You should think about it yourself,” the little black ant went on. “If you don’t start looking out for yourself, nobody is going to look out for you.”
“And why not?” the fine young grasshopper wanted to know.
“Because, that’s the rule. Now, if you will kindly excuse me, I really must be on about my business,” sniffed the little black ant, quite finished with the conversation. “It’s so very important, after all, you know.”
“Okay,” said the fine young grasshopper. “See you around sometime.”
“Maybe yes and maybe no,” said the little black ant. Off he went to attend his very important business, leaving the fine young grasshopper alone in the meadow of the quiet little dell, shaking his head in confusion.
By-and-by, it came to the fine young grasshopper that he was wasting far too much valuable time worrying about what the little black ant had said. Once again, the merry chirping of his cousins, the crickets, caught his attention. He set off to find them. Once he did, he joined them in happy song and dance.
All through the high summer days, the grasshopper skipped and sang with his cousins, the crickets, in the meadow of the quiet little dell. There was plenty to eat and lots to do.
From time to time, one of the ever-dangerous birds would snatch a cricket up from what had only seemed to be a safe perch…sometimes even in mid-note! But that was the way things were and the way things were supposed to be. So when sudden tragedy struck, the crickets and the grasshopper would shrug their shoulders and go back to their songs and dances.
And all was right with the world.
The summer wore on quickly. Soon the nights grew chill even though the days remained warm and comfortable enough. The grass in the meadow of the dell began to turn brown and the delicious flowers, once plentiful, started to wither and fade.
Autumn was falling. The world was a changing place.
But that was the way things were and the way things were supposed to be. So the fine young grasshopper and his cousins, the crickets, kept singing their merry songs and dancing their favorite jigs.
Still, in the cool of the lengthening nights, the fine young grasshopper could not help but think back on the words of the little black ant. “Maybe he was on to something,” the fine young grasshopper admitted to himself as he shook and shivered ‘neath the light of a pale harvest moon.
The very next morning, without so much as a by-your-leave to his cousins, the crickets, the fine young grasshopper set out in search of the little black ant. Although the object of his search could have been in any one of a million hiding places in the meadow of the dell, the fine young grasshopper found him quickly by returning to the precise spot in which they’d first met.
“Halloo,” the fine young grasshopper greeted the little black ant heartily. Startled, the diligent worker couldn’t help but drop the heavy load on his shoulders.
“Oh, it’s you. I should have guessed,” the little black ant complained as the fine young grasshopper helped him to his feet, brushing the meadow dust off his body. “What do you want now?”
“I was thinking about what you told me,” the fine young grasshopper said.
“What was that?” the little black ant asked as he struggled to work the heavy load back up across his powerful shoulders.
“Don’t you remember?” the fine young grasshopper was stunned that the little black ant could forget such important advice.
“I should say not,” the little black ant answered curtly. “I can’t be expected to remember every detail of a chance conversation which took place months and months ago. I’m a very busy ant. There’s a lot to be done. Winter is coming and I have to make sure there’s enough food stored away. That’s the rule.”
“That’s exactly the point!” the fine young grasshopper said. Once again he fell into step beside the little black ant who had set off toward his home in the base of a grand old tree at the edge of the meadow in the quiet little dell. “My cousins, the crickets, and I have been singing and dancing and playing all summer long. Everything was great while the world was warm because there was lots to eat and lots to do. But now the world is starting to change. I’m afraid of what will happen if things get much colder than they are now.”
“Oh, they will,” the little black ant puffed up the small rise they were on because his load was particularly heavy. “You can bet on it. That’s the rule.”
“That’s why I came to see you,” the fine young grasshopper said. “You know all the rules. You know what to do.”
“And you want me to tell you?” the little black ant stopped dead in his tracks, setting the heavy load down on the ground.
“If you don’t terribly mind, that is,” the fine young grasshopper nodded enthusiastically.
“I don’t know,” the little black ant replied hesitantly.
“Oh, please tell me,” the fine young grasshopper pleaded without shame. The little black ant could plainly see his genuine sincerity.
“Well, I suppose it would be all right,” the little black ant decided. “After all, I’m not aware of any rules against this sort of thing.”
“Great!” the fine young grasshopper was overcome with joy. “Can we begin tomorrow?”
“If you really want me to tell you the things you need to know,” the little black ant declared, “you will have to begin right now. There’s lots to be done. Winter is coming. We have to make sure there’s enough food stored away. That’s the rule.”
“Oh, okay,” the fine young grasshopper sighed. “I’ll work all day, then go back to see my cousins, the crickets, and sing and dance all night.”
“Oh no you won’t,” the little black ant decided. “You’ll need all the energy you can get if you want to make sure you have enough food stored away to last through the winter. That’s the rule.”
“If I must,” the fine young grasshopper rolled his eyes. “How do I begin?”
“Pick up that heavy load,” the little black ant pointed to the large burden he’d set on the meadow’s ground.
“You want me to carry all that?” the fine young grasshopper shrieked with surprise. “You must be out of your mind!”
“If you want me to tell you what you need to know, you have to do your share of the work,” the little black ant folded his front legs defiantly. “I worked all summer long to make sure there’s enough food stored away for winter. Now it’s your turn. That’s the rule.”
“Oh, all right,” the fine young grasshopper said. With a dramatic groan, he heaved the ant’s burden over his shoulders. It was a heavy load, indeed. Far heavier, in fact, than the fine young grasshopper had anticipated. He staggered across the floor of the meadow, desperately struggling to keep pace with the little black ant.
“A day’s work for a day’s pay,” the little black ant chided as the fine young grasshopper lagged behind. “That’s the rule.”
“You and your rules,” the fine young grasshopper complained, muttering under his breath so the little black ant would not hear and scold him.
Finally, the grasshopper and the ant arrived at the base of the grand old tree at the edge of the meadow in the quiet little dell. “Home, sweet home,” said the little black ant.
“At last,” panted the fine young grasshopper. He stooped to set down the ant’s heavy load.
“Not yet, not yet,” cried the little black ant. “You have to bring it inside. That’s the rule.”
“Where do you want it?” the fine young grasshopper asked, resigned to his ordeal. He staggered into the ant’s humble home, almost knocking over a lamp as he made his way through the living room to the vestibule.
“In here,” the little black ant seemed quite accustomed to giving orders now, “and do be careful.”
“Certainly,” the fine young grasshopper said wearily, dropping the ant’s heavy load where he stood.
“Not there, you oaf,” the little black ant screamed in anger. “You have to store it away neatly. That’s the rule. Otherwise, how would we ever find it again?”
“Who made up all these stupid rules?” the fine young grasshopper demanded, quite put out.
“Look, do you want me to tell you what you need to know or don’t you?” the little black ant challenged, confident the cards were stacked in his favor.
The fine young grasshopper looked wildly around the little black ant’s domicile, hoping an ally would somehow materialize and come to his aid. Instead, he realized he was standing in the very center of a warm and cozy shelter. The pantry was full to the brim with dried leaves and grasses and tender shoots from the most savory flowers.
There was enough food stored away to last for the entire winter.
“I don’t think that will be necessary anymore, thank you very kindly,” the fine young grasshopper moved to block the doorway from the little black ant, just in case his host had any thoughts of leaving.
“Hey, you can’t do that,” worry filled the little black ant’s voice, and with good reason.
“Why not?” the fine young grasshopper asked with pleasant malice as he picked up the little black ant’s favorite easy chair and smashed it on the ground, breaking off a solid arm, which he brandished as a club.
“Because it’s rude to menace someone in their own home,” the little black ant complained. “That’s the rule.”
“I’ve had just about enough of your stupid rules,” the fine young grasshopper decided. And with that, he brought his club down heavily across the side of the little black ant’s head, knocking the poor creature senseless.
“Thank you, sir. Don’t mind if I do,” the fine young grasshopper said to the dying ant as he broke off a section of his victim’s thorax and began to eat heartily. “I’ve worked very hard today. It seems I’ve built up quite an appetite.”
The fine young grasshopper made quick work of his host, which is to say his dinner; or quick work of his dinner, which is to say his host. The preference, of course, is all yours.
After dinner, the fine young grasshopper lay happily down on the little black ant’s comfortable sofa, for which the final payment had been sent in just the previous week, allowing himself the luxury of a long, pleasant nap.
When the fine young grasshopper finally awakened, he found the meadow in the dell had been brushed with a delicate coat of new snow. He realized the songs of his cousins, the crickets, were over for the while. Indeed, they would not be heard again until late in the following spring.
“No matter,” the grasshopper shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “That is the way things are and the way things they’re supposed to be. That’s the rule.”
And all was right with the world.
The long winter wore slowly on, but the fine young grasshopper stayed safe and warm in the base of the grand old tree by the edge of the meadow in the dell. There was plenty to eat, and the cold air made him so sluggish that he didn’t mind sleeping for nights and days on end.
After a while, the days grew warmer even though the nights were still quite chill. The grass in the meadow of the dell began to sprout through the melting cover of snow. Delicious flowers began to appear.
The world, once again, was a changing place.
From time to time, the grasshopper, no longer so young, poked his head from the base of the grand old tree to see how things were coming along. But he had grown full and comfortable in his domicile, and there was still food in the pantry. He had no reason to hazard out into the open while spring was changing into summer.
Finally, the last cupboard was totally bare. The grasshopper realized he had to fend for himself once again. The sound of his cousins, the crickets, singing their familiar summer song drifted to him through the open windows of the home in the base of the grand old tree that had once belonged to a little black ant.
“I guess it’s time to go,” the grasshopper took one last look around the cozy haven which had held him safely through the worst of times, “and when you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go. That’s the rule.”
With a decisive hop-hop-hop, he left the base of the grand old tree behind.
Instantly, one of the ever-dangerous birds dove out of the bright, sunny sky to snatch the fine, fat grasshopper up and swallow him whole.
And all was right with the world.
Moral: As a rule, there can be entirely too many rules.
