Once, my children, we roamed the earth, scrounging what we could find between grains of sand, in burrows, in the gutters.

This was before the flood.

The flood drove us to seek shelter, and shelter we sought, and shelter we did find. We hid and when we had dried from the flood and our hunger began to pain us, we ventured forth.

What wonders we did see! This was a time of full bellies and sweet dreams, the week of the Overflowing Recycling Bin and the Wadded Up Pastry Paper.

It was in this time that we scouted the route that would become the Tour Around The Wrapped Hard Candy that you have enjoyed many times. Is it not a pity that we are not larger, or more mechanically inclined? That we must rely upon the carelessness of others for our sweetest rewards?

Sweet rewards they are! Nothing compares to the Uncapped Honey Jar Which Had Rolled Under The Stove. Generations feasted upon it…

Until the Citra-solv rained death upon us. There are good times and bad… the good will come again, little ant.