The Ants and the Empanada

This post is followed by the revision which is a class project.

The Ants and the Empanada
by Wayne Koehler

     It was a Monday, like any Monday or any of the other days, and a gathering of ants had surrounded a lone scout ant as he fought for his breath in order to report to the foreman. The scout ant had run all the way home to tell the others about the huge sack of trash he had found next to the trail on the edge of the forest. The foreman ant had told the scout to slow down, breathe, and explain exactly where this sack of trash had been found.
     “It’s Taco Bell!” The scout yelled, ecstatic that he had found such a prize. Then he fainted, which is not uncommon for an ant in a very high stress moment.
     “Check his pockets!” shouted several ants who were watching the excitement. Two had already taken his boots.
     “Adam!” Shouted the foreman. “You take ten other worker ants and go see if you can learn more about this ‘sack of trash’. Although ants enjoy looking for food near to their homes, none could resist the thought of a possible Taco Bell caramel apple empanada. It was the only viable explanation for the permanent smile etched on the scout’s face.
     “You workers are to go out there, somewhere, and find that Taco Bell bag, or whatever it is,” said the foreman, trying to sound like this was not at all interesting. He always tried to sound like things were not interesting because he thought that it made him sound like a real foreman. “When you find it, bring it back here. And make sure you see me first!”
     They would leave in the morning. That was Monday, although none of the ants knew it. Now it was Tuesday, and they still were completely unaware of the idea of time at all. All they knew was that they had been walking since breakfast and it must be lunch by now.
     “OK, let’s stop here.” Adam said, as they came to a stick which was stuck in the dirt. The stick had been there for over a year now, but the ants had never been this way before so they had no idea about the history of the stick, nor of anything else in this part of the forest.
     “What do we have to eat?” asked Bob and Karl, as they walked up from the rear where they had been examining the first end of the stuck stick. “I hope someone brought coffee!”
     “Over here!” shouted Isaiah, who happened to be the group’s largest ant. He also was the bravest and the best cook, the perfect ant to bring with you if you’re going to need to stop for lunch or for any other meal. “There’s sugar and only a little bit of milk, so go easy, alright?”
     “Who made these sandwiches?” Asked Bob. “They taste horrible!” He grimaced, as he took another bite.
     “I think they’re leftovers from the last hike we took,” Said Pete. “Remember when the foreman sent us to find that flying saucer? That was fun!”
     “Yea, that was weird.” Said Donny, looking at the sky as if another flying whatever would appear and whiz past their heads. “The flying saucer had never been found, and no one was sure about what it might have been.
     The flying saucer had flown straight over the ant village, causing several old lady ants to drop their groceries and run for cover. The foreman jumped to the ground, quivering in the dirt with all of his hands over his head and his feet kicking in the air. He later explained how that was part of the training he had received in ant-to-ant combat school, a course he took in order to qualify for the foreman position in this particular village.
     “One must not run!” He had said to the crowd of young ants, who had gathered to watch him dust off his trousers after the flying saucer had passed directly over his head. “One must always hug the ground in order not to be hit by whatever that thing was!” Then he fainted.
     “You kick like a girl!” said one of the younger ant kids. They all began laughing and ran off to tell all the other little kid ants about the foreman, which they considered to be the best part of the whole flying saucer incident.
     After finishing lunch, the ants started off again towards the field. They each were carrying a cup of hot coffee so the next several yards went rather slow. It won’t do to spill your coffee when you have finally gotten the correct sugar to milk ratio worked out, with much arguing and explaining and attempts at teaching the finer points of stirring.
     “It’s just ahead! I can see the path!” Yelled Bill from the top of a blade of heavy grass. Bill was the only ant in the group who was thin enough not to make the blade of grass bend, allowing him to reach maximum altitude, a fine art which Bill had trained at for more than a year, although he had no idea it had been that long. “Probably about three clicks!”
     “What’s a click?” asked Tom, looking at Steve with that puzzled look only Tom could make.
     “He just made that up,” answered Steve. “He just likes to sound smart, because he went to school through the third grade.”
     “Wow,” said Tom. “I had no idea he was that smart.” Tom had tried the second grade, but the numbers and all that ‘what color is an apple’ stuff gave him headaches, so his mom had sent him to worker ant school. “I can spell ‘ant’,” he said, “But I don’t remember where the ‘q’ goes.”
     After Bill climbed down from the grass, the ants moved more quickly than they had been going since starting out that morning. It was already half past lunch and most of the ants back in the village were just getting up from naps. Real worker ants don’t take naps. They don’t feel pain and they certainly don’t cry. Not in public anyways. Ted had cried three times since leaving the village that morning. Once because a bumble bee got too close, a second time because it came back, and the third time because he had realized that he had stopped crying from the bee’s return and immediately started crying again. “That’s only two and a half cries!” he sobbed, trying to catch up. He didn’t mind being teased; he just wanted them to know it wasn’t three times.
     “Stop!” ordered Adam. The ants had reached the path at the edge of the forest. “Isaiah, you and the crybaby go and check out this path. Just over in that ditch is the empanada.”
     The two were gone a very short time when they returned to the base of a small alder tree where the other ants were waiting. “It’s not an empanada.” They said. Their faces showed the unbearable grief. “It’s just a few hot sauce packets and some Pepsi spilled on the sack. We also found that flying saucer. You were right, Tim, it was a Frisbee!”

The Ants and the Empanada
(Revised)
by Wayne Koehler

     It was a Monday, like any Monday or any of the other days, and a gathering of ants had surrounded a lone scout ant as he fought for his breath in order to report to the foreman. The scout ant had run all the way home to tell the others about the huge sack of trash he had found next to the trail on the edge of the forest. The foreman ant had told the scout to slow down, breathe, and explain exactly where this sack of trash had been found.
     “It’s Taco Bell!” The scout yelled, ecstatic that he had found such a prize. Then he fainted, which is not uncommon for an ant in a very high stress moment.
     “Check his pockets!” shouted several ants who were watching the excitement. Two had already taken his boots.
     The ants went back to their homes, each thinking about what to do with the sack. George, who had once found a beetle, thought he should be the best choice to be sent out in the morning. It was about a month ago, George was scrounging around a pile of leaves, looking for some lunch, and a beetle jumped out! George bravely fell back to a safe distance and cowered behind a pine cone. The beetle took the opportunity to slowly waddle away.
     Eric thought about the sack well past bedtime, which was around seven since his mother thought he needed extra rest after the excitement of the afternoon. He was sure that he knew what a sack was, and wanted the chance to find one. He would show that sack what it means to be handled by an ant!
     Jeremy, who had no idea what was going on, insisted that if the other ants wanted a sack they should just make one. Jeremy was very industrious, yet not very smart.
     Olivia, the only girl ant to consider going out for the sack, knew that she would find it. She always told the others that girl ants are better than boy ants at just about everything, except looking silly.
     At sunup the next day, just after breakfast, each of the ants who wanted to go out showed up in the village square. All but Jeremy had boots, Olivia had a sack to put the sack in, and George had drawn a map. Eric was still in bed.
     They stood in the square until the foreman showed up, he liked an extra cup of coffee after his breakfast and was usually late.
     “Joey!” shouted the foreman, calling for the scout ant who had seen the sack. “Which direction did you say this sack was?”
     “Why?” asked Joey, with a very puzzled look.
     “Well,” continued the foreman.” We’re going to go get the sack. Did you forget where its at?”
     “No.” said Joey “But why do you want it?”
     “To eat it!” shouted all the ants together.
     “Oh.” said Joey. “I already ate it.”


     I did not want to revise this story. When I wrote it, I just started thinking about Adam, the chief character in the story as well as the leader of the ants on safari. He loves empanadas.
     The positive feedback, along with the comments and suggestions which I received in class were really unexpected. I had no intention of revising the story at all, and wished that I could tell more about the individual ants. This story could really go on for quite awhile; the sack could have been carried away by a fox, causing the outing to last a week as they followed it. I really wanted to have them spend the night with a little campfire and marshmallows, ending with the big ants tucking in the little ants.
     I couldn’t think of any way to change this story without it being a complete change. Like how would I change my kid? Would I give him green hair? Wouldn’t he still be the same kid, only looking different? I can’t have a green haired ant story.
     If I were to continue with a change, I would keep the original draft, adding a little to the beginning. I would talk about the daily workings of the village, with all the ants going about their own ant business, which is much like the way we go about our own business, only on a smaller scale. The ending would definitely be reworked, I had wanted to go on while dreaming it up, but then realized that it needed to be short enough to read in class, keeping in mind that other students were to read their pieces as well.
     This piece was never intended to be part of a larger piece, though I will keep it just in case the ants decide to go on another outing.