I believe I am an ant with potential!
I mean to say, I wasn’t born to labor the labor of my few-million fellow colony ladies and gentleants. I was born to sit on the blades of freshly-mowed grass and…contemplating the meaning of life while enjoying my morning crumbs—the harvest of lengthily and risky trips of my fellow ants, into the house of my giant bi-pedal neighbor.
But see, that’s really far-fetched. And here, I must elaborate…
Where I come from, it doesn’t really rain much. And by God’s grace, the sun shines so bright it boils eggs before they’re lain. And from what I hear, there isn’t enough water to keep grass alive anymore—ridiculous, since they say there are two massive…rivers, or something. Now, when grass does grow, it grows so high because nobody mows it. Otherwise…it really just doesn’t grow. Even those gigantic palms began withering…it’s kind of sad. Anyway, to make a long story short, I prefer not to live outdoors, because I don't have a death wish.
Therefore, I live in a humie’s house! That is, Choo8i’s house!
More specifically, in a rather comfortably-situated crack in his living room’s wall. Where he keeps epic products of human advancement; like his television, his computer, and his dreadfully-old 3ala2ildeen 9opa which reeks of petroleum, probably passed to him from his grandparents. The kitchen is a few hours’ journey from where I live, a convenience given the fact that I’ve chosen to live alone—and though it’s not always stocked with foods of nutritious value, I do occasionally get enough 9amoon crumbs to last me for a few days. Some sugar, and if I’m really lucky, leftovers of Kahi on the table on Fridays; an extra bit of effort and an hour’s climb up the table for the Kahi, but worth the trouble.
It’s been particularly easy to get food recently, actually, since it’s often dark. Electricity is scarce, and after a couple of years and a total of four generators of various sizes, they finally realized that to keep a generator, lots of money must be spent on maintenance, repair and fuel; not buying benzene maghshoosh is always a must, even if it meant painstaking hours of search and fortunes spent per gallon. That advice is a virtue of Choo8i’s neighbor, Um 7amoodi, whose son had proudly 7osam a gigantic generator during the farhood days and who, despite being a dentist, makes his living off selling electricity per ampere to the neighborhood now.
Needless to say, 7amoodi didn’t like that his mother told the neighbors about the secrets pertaining to keeping a generator alive—he could use the few extra bucks earned from selling Choo8i’s family some electricity. Him and Choo8i haven't been on speaking terms since.
But I digress…
It’s been easier to get food recently, since it’s often dark. Because precious amperes are spent on keeping the TV and the fan going, and occasionally the computer—which soon evolved to a laptop, as the need would have it. And since it’s dark or somewhat dim at best, I find it infinitely easy to sneak around for food, even from under Choo8i’s couch or such. Though the food-quality has declined painfully since Choo8i’s family left the country; apparently his sister finished high school, and to attend university without worrying her parents to death every day, they took her out of the country. To Jordan or…Syria or something.
So now, it’s me, Choo8i and Choo8i’s not so brilliant cooking and idle shopping habits.
I will have to elaborate some about Choo8i, but that would have to wait for some other time; Ija el wa6ani w Choo8i ra7 y7awwil!
