Tuesday, November 02, 2004
I Lose Focus
I swarm. I am everywhere. I delight in my swarming.
It is early morning in Washington, D.C. The polling places are opening. A few humans are out early to cast their votes for me, for Blattodea.
But I don't stop to gawk. I don't swarm past the poll-watchers and the bailiffs to do a little last-minute campaigning. I don't worry about the 150-foot rule. I have my orders. I am headed for the White House. Today is the day. Today I reclaim my place in the food chain. Today I restore God's Chosen to his rightful office, so ignominiously stolen by the fish-loving usurper.
I'm swarming down Pennsylvania Avenue, the White House in view up ahead, when something strange happens. I sort of--lose focus. I forget what I was doing. I had something important to do, I think. I had some sort of destination. But I can't think of what it is.
Food, I think. I'm kind of hungry. Yes, that must be what I was doing: foraging. I scamper through cracks in walls, under doors. Food!
Behind me, still out in the street, I can dimly hear someone shouting. Dick Cheney, I think it must be.
"Where are you guys going?" he's yelling. "The White House is just ahead!"
White house? What do I care what color a house is? All I really care about is, do they leave their trash lying around, food scraps on the counters. And it looks like I've found plenty of that right here.