One bright day in late autumn, a family of Ants was bustling about in the warm sunshine, drying out the grain they had stored up during the summer, when a starving Grasshopper, his fiddle under his arm, came up and humbly begged for a bite to eat.
“What!” cried the Ants in surprise, “haven’t you stored anything away for the winter? What in the world were you doing all last summer?”
“I didn’t have time to store up any food,” whined the Grasshopper; “I was so busy making music that before I knew it, the summer was gone.”
The Ants shrugged their shoulders in disgust. “Making music, were you?” they cried. “Very well; now dance!” And they turned their backs on the Grasshopper and went on with their work.
The grasshopper realizing he was much bigger than the ants, pushed them down and took their food.
The next day the ants returned with about a million of their friends, hacked the grasshopper into pieces with their big bitey mandibles, and carried him back to their colony to feed the queen.
Ants are vindictive little bastards.
“If you play The Devil Goes Down To Georgia one more time…”