Small Places : Nick L Belardes [21 of 128]

• I buy an ant farm and name all the ants inside after me. I call them my collective consciousness.
• They're all named Willie. I talk to them. I take the ant farm to a coffeehouse.
• I get a mocha, smile at the ants, read the paper and feel like God spinning planets on his fingertips.
• What else can I do but bring the ant farm to work? Workers come, stare into the little cubicles of sand. They wander off. I feel giantish.
• Soon I come to work and the ant farm is filled with water. The ants float hopelessly, lifeless. Milt walks by, winks.
• I stop bringing salsa. Milt is in his Benetton sweater attire, probably bought at the Cusack Movie Collection auction from High Fidelity.
• He oozes seedy Hollywood. He declares himself a big fan of Japanese samurai movies. He currently reads,
• "Samurai Stories and Other Decapitation Romances." I hate him.
• Seven.
• Most jobs are about nothing. The corporate world is no savior from that. I mean, what are we but a slowly drowning ant farm, anyway?
• I have a college degree, a marketing background that you can't laugh too hard at. But I make a mere 34K per year. I don't even have a car.