Hi. I am anonymous. You can call me anon. Not because it’s cooler or anything but because it saves breath. My name is not important. I am a non-entity. The story that I have to narrate is not important as well. It does not need to be told nor read. Before you read on an official disclaimer from my side: This story is a useless piece of shit. Discharged and excreted from the deepest recesses of my mind.
The story is about two ants, A and B. A was more important because he had met the queen thrice whereas B had met her once. The more you met the queen, the more your ego would get the boost. So the ants which regularly met the queen thought too much of themselves. They could easily identify the ones who were less important than themselves and the identification factor was pride. If they met or touched someone from the lower castes they would spit at them. This would further inflate their ego whereas the spitted ones would get more deflated. Now A was sick of coming in contact with B regularly. Even though spitting at B made him feel good about himself, the touch itself disgusted him. So he came up with an idea of segregating all the ants which met the queen once or less and placing them in the anthill that was in a waterlogged area which was extremely vulnerable to rainfall and water. Thus, the ants which considered themselves superior would live in the other anthill which was more robust to water and where the chances of the anthill getting immersed in water was next to nothing. When the next rains would come, the waterlogged anthill would get completely immersed in water and hardly few ants would survive. Feeling even more proud of himself, ant A conveyed this idea to the caste minister who updated the details and information about the ants who met the queen. The idea was readily accepted by the caste minister. All the lesser proud ants were circled and thrown into the waterlogged anthill. The lesser proud ants could only hope for a severe drought as this would be the lone way in which all ants could survive. When the monsoons arrived, it flooded like never before. None of the ants in the waterlogged anthill survived.
Moral of the story: Life is unfair.