I stand amid the ocean of fellow ants who had waited long enough for the president's speech. My limbs had been sore from standing way too long just to hear his speech which they considered having no content at all. My ears had been crying from those "bullshit!" and "liar!" shouts of those ants who didn't even understand the speech at all.
I was not the only one suffering. The president stood there on that podium, sweating and trembling. He had been answering a lot of questions - well, practically just saying YES to every demand. This is an anthill where democracy had been taken advantage of, a place where the president is at the bottom of the food chain. Ants want this. Ants want that. And they surely get them. Helpful? I chose not to comment.
Two ants in uniform went in front, signalling the end of the president's speech and the open forum. Then came the oceans of grunts and rolling eyes as my fellow ants walked away. I followed him to our car, me in the passenger seat, and the president, the backseat. I rested my head on the window and watched as we head our way to the white house.
A big beige building, where the food our hunters found were stored, stood high. It stood high behind the mountain. Behind the mountain with twice its height. A mountain of garbage. Beside it, "No Throwing of Garbage." We stopped as ants, civilians, crossed the street in front of the "No Jaywalking" sign. We passed by this group of ants in uniform of blue and dirty badges. They were drinking. They were laughing with their mouths as big as their heads. And some had their heads down, sleeping. We did another stop as we picked the governor up in front of the "No Loading and Unloading" sign. He was wearing white, a cloth which was made of pineapple fibers. As soon as he had settled in, we continued our trip. We passed by some ants wearing white who walked around with their ant people. They walked with their heads high, pickpocketing every ant that walked by. Poor ants - not knowing they were being robbed. But the ants in white were, I guess, laughing: more money to stuff their already-thick wallets. This was the way of life in Nurong.
We finally arrived after an hour of travel. The white house wasn't necessarily all-white. It had its touches of persimmon too. The windows sparkled against the sun. The doors were all made of mahogany. In front of the mansion were shrubs about half-of-an-ant high formed in a semicircle. In the middle stood a very tall silver pole. The flag - white, yellow, blue and red - hanged in the middle. The president stepped out of the car, his face more determined than ever. He fixed his suit of yellow. Focused, he pulled the flag inch by inch upward. Inch by inch upward - until.
-- Until hordes of ants came running. They came running from every direction. They came running with their guns: rifles and pistols. They came shooting. They came shooting at the flag. The president didn't move. He stood there with his grip still steady on the rop. I tried to pull him away. The president didn't move. The ants came charging, heading for the other end of the rope. They took the flag down. A hundred against one, they pull the flag down. Inch by inch the flag went down. Inch by inch the ground shook. Inch by inch the flag went down. Inch by inch the whole anthil crumbled.
The anthill of Nurong. Disappeared. The curse of the Anthill of Nurong. The anthill where nothing was wrong. The anthill that destroyed itself. The anthill where nothing was wrong - but there is one thing. Democracy taken for granted. Democracy abused. Rules were just for fanciness. Rules. Fake rules. The anthill of No Wrong
