Anton Antoevsky the ant ambled through the forest of grass. His shabby hat leaned perpetually, his legs were covered in a grubby muslin, and his boots were floppy and nearly disintegrating. In short, he was a very low ranked ant. His life was in shambles. He knew it, they all knew it, all of the other clerks in the office hated him. He was neurotic, groaning to himself as he hunched over his desk, copying, copying, copying. He was headed to the tavern, the sot that he was. He was going there to attempt to drink away the embarassing scene that was still fresh in his mind. His face spasmed in pain when recalling the event, recoiling from the memory, he hastened his gait, following the familiar scent path, reeking with booze. His mind, however, would not be foiled in its memories, and returned to the thought of her.
"But you cannot be serious, Anton, I could not imagine being with such a lowly clerk as yourself. You must know this as well as I do." Said Antonina Antinovich with a look that nearly destroyed him. "But, Antonina Antinovich, you must know my passions for you, I am not a coward, I cannot take it any longer, you must love me!" shrieked Anton Antoevsky, growing more and more shrill with desperation. "You must calm yourself, Anton, I will not let you bully me into loving you, yes, we were young once, you wrote me love poems endlessly, I once had affections for you. But now that we are older, you must know how ridiculous you are to me, how foolish you are! You have no prospects, no passion for your work, you are constantly besotted, and you are viciously poor and shabby. I cannot take you seriously any longer, nor can I tolerate your presence, I have given you attentions out of pity, but no more. You must go, Anton." With that, the poor ant stifled a cry of sorrow as his protestations were ignored, and he was hurried away by her servants.
This scene assaulted him to the point of tears nearing his destination, he bit them back as he came under the familiar broad leaf that covered the tiny tavern, and stumbled into the hole, a small cavern crowded to the brim and loud with the chatter of drunken ants. As he tripped over a rock lodged in the entrance, he reached out and grabbed the nearest steady object, which, in this instance was an ant. A very quick tempered and rich ant, in fact. The ant in question was Konstantin Rumyantsev, a Captain in the Queen's army. "You over-segmented fool! You spined master of mistakes! You have ripped my cape!" fumed Konstantin Rumyantsev, his face growing red with palsied rage. "I am so sorry, Konstantin Rumyantsev! Forgive me, I am so clumsy, I did not see where i was going and.." blustered out Anton Antoevsky, already recognizing Konstantin Rumyantsev and in fear for his life of the commanding armyant in front of him, "You will have to pay for this! Clearly you are a poor ant, so I must force you to pay in the only way you can, with your life! Find your seconds, and meet me in -- Valley at dawn!" after this outburst, Konstantin Rumyantsev stormed out of the tavern, tattered cloak hanging from his magnificent attire. "My god, what have I done, I am doomed, I will be killed! I cannot go, but if I refuse I am a coward, I must go into hiding!" cried Anton Antoevsky to himself, not even seeing the crowd gazing at him with amusement. He slumped at a mound and begged for a drink. After it had soaked his tiny ant brain, he was stricken with an idea. "If I were to take this challenge, and kill him somehow, I may gain Antonina Antinovich's attentions once more, oh god, perhaps this is my only chance," he mused, "but how could I defeat this monster? I can barely aim a pistol and I am already shaking from fear, oh what can I do?"
The next day, at dawn, Anton Antoevsky had arrived at -- Valley, a massive dip in a sidewalk. With his seconds, a pair of gossips, he was sure that they would spread either his defeat or success against Konstantin Rumyantsev, and it would soon reach the ears of Antonina Antinovich. When Konstantin Rumyantsev arrived with his seconds and a pair of elegant pistols, Anton Antoevsky began to tremble miserably. "Are you prepared to die? That cloak you mangled was worth more than a thousand of you, filthy worm." with these words, Konstantin Rumyantsev shook with wrath and took aim at Anton Antoevsky, fired, and missed. Anton Antoevsky had heard the shot, his eyes shut tight, he was certain he was now dead, and when he opened his eyes, he would be gazing into ant God's face. He opened his eyes hesitantly, to be shocked to find that he was still alive, and looking at a crestfallen, but still wrathful armyant standing several paces away. "My chance! My time has come, my--" Suddenly, they were all crushed by a man strolling to work.
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