[ WP ] You are an ant and you encounter an anteater . How do you convince it to leave you alone ?

Mr Anteater laid sprawled on the floor, clearly deep in his slumber, his long tube-like mouth making a peculiar whistling sound with each inhalation and exhalation of dry dusty air, with the latter kicking up a small dust cloud with each puff. 
 
 Mr Ant had stumbled upon Mr Anteater's lair whilst foraging for food. Initially, Mr Ant had not wanted to trouble this ginormous slumbering beast, for it had looked like he could do with some rest, especially with that weary expression on Mr Anteater's face. Mr Ant had wondered if Mr Anteater was eating well, and his gaze had unconsciously shifted towards Mr Anteater's hairy belly, for every self-respecting food lover would know that a belly was a telltale sign of healthiness. 
 
 Ah, what a beautiful sight to behold! A full tummy! Even Mr Ant felt a pang of jealousy that quickly faded away. Why, Mr Ant was usually not one to be envious of others, for he knew that food was the result of hard work, and what a great amount of trouble and effort Mr Anteater must have gone through to earn such a hearty meal! Mr Ant even felt slightly happy for Mr Anteater. 
 
 It can now be understood that Mr Ant had not a slightest clue that Mr Anteater was his natural enemy, and a deadly one at that!'Why?' you may ask. Mr Ant hailed from a well protected and secluded nest high up in the Great Spiny Tree of the South, and it was naturally protected from the likes of Mr Anteater. 
 
 Mr Ant walked closer towards the sleeping giant in an attempt to traverse across his lair, being cautious not to wake up this resting hunk of fur. But what was that strangely familiar smell that Mr Ant could pick up? The more Mr Ant thought about it, the more he grew frustrated, for its source was just on the tip of his tongue. How infuriating! 
 
 Mr Ant was getting closer to the snout of Mr Anteater, for Mr Anteater had positioned himself after his hearty meal in such a way that his snout laid midway in Mr Ant's pathway home. This meant that Mr Ant would have to traverse across the miniature sandstorm being made by Mr Anteater's snout. 
 
 Mr Ant grimaced as he trudged through the sandstorm, each puff almost lifting him off the ground and into the air. Such peril and danger that one must go through just to get home! This was most certainly going to be a story to be told when Mr Ant was back in the foragers' changing room. 
 
 It hit Mr Ant like a sledgehammer bashing through his head, right when Mr Ant was halfway across the sandstorm. The smell of dead ants! Mr Ant had known of the smell of death ever since the demise of his dear friend, Mr Charlie-Ant, at the hoof of a careless lumbering elephant. The source of the smell was Mr Anteater's snout, as Mr Ant further realized after investigating further. Right there, at the opening of Mr Anteater's nostrils, Mr Ant put two and two together, a deep fear overcoming every minuscule part of his exoskeleton body. 
 
 It was clear that Mr Anteater had his belly full of ants as it was bulging like an inflated balloon, and this did not amuse Mr Ant one tiny bit. How dare Mr Anteater munch on his comrades! How dare he! His fear morphed quickly into hatred and disgust; Mr Ant could feel his anger rising with every second spent looking at that round belly. Oh, the disgust! 
 
 Mr Ant was going to exact his revenge on Mr Anteater on behalf of his fallen kin, and there was nothing that was going to stand in his way, not even the fear of death by tongue. Mr Ant had a plan, and it was devious, alright. Downright devious. 
 
 `` Why there, Mr Anteater, having a fine day? ``, Mr Ant called out in feigned politeness to his new enemy. 
 
 Mr Anteater stirred and opened one of his eye, searching for the unknown source of the greeting. Mr Ant's waving antenna caught his attention after a quick scan of the surroundings. It was obvious that Mr Anteater recognized him as a prey, for it was all instinct to this wild beast. 
 
 Before Mr Ant could be stabbed with and get stuck to Mr Anteater's Tongue of Death, Mr Ant deftly jumped into Mr Anteater's nostrils, clinging onto the inner hairs for dear life as Mr Anteater breathed normally. 
 
 There was movement, like an earthquake of sorts. Mr Anteater was rousing from his deep sleep! 
 
 `` You dastardly creature! How dare you murder my kin, my species! You disgust me, and that itself is already saying something! ``, cried Mr Ant against the sound of rushing air through Mr Anteater's nasal passage. Mr Ant knew that he could be heard, and he was going to make a point. 
 
 Mr Ant climbed through the nasal hairs, likened to a competitive rock-climber, except that there was no safety harness for Mr Ant. It was only do, or die. Mr Ant's heart was thumping out of control, as if it was stuck on overdrive. 
 
 Mr Ant reached the end of the nasal passage. Now, he was heading into unknown territory. He climbed downwards, being careful to avoid the sticky mucous that lined the inner walls and only climbing through dry areas. 
 
 Before long, he reached a oblong shaped mass hanging from the walls of Mr Anteater's throat, red and tender-looking. Mr Ant figured that if he wanted to inflict pain, that was going to be the way. Mr Ant knew that if he were to step into the mucus, there was little chance of escaping, for a tiny ant could only exert so much energy before giving up to fate. 
 
 Grinding his mandibles together, Mr Ant made his way to the oblong shape, disregarding the sticky goo. *'For the fallen, I must...', * he uttered, a string of words that would inspire generations of ants after Mr Ant. Upon reaching the oblong mass, Mr Ant pierced his mandibles into the soft inner flesh of Mr Anteater. 
 
 The howl of pain was deafening to anyone in the vicinity! It sounded like a roaring dragon being awaken from its sleep, or a chorus of howling wolves. If Mr Ant had ears, he was certain that he would have become deaf! The rumblings grew stronger and stronger, and before long, a rush of foul smelling liquid rushed past Mr Ant. This steady blast of foul liquid continued for what seemed to Mr Ant like an age. 
 
 Bite after bite, Mr Ant would not give mercy. Was the thousands of fallen ants given any mercy? How repulsive this huge creature was! If Mr Ant could banish it to an eternity of pain, he would in a heartbeat. 
 
 After awhile, Mr Ant knew that he had to leave, for he himself had a rumbling tummy to attend to. So after piercing the soft fleshy meat for one last time, Mr Ant left Mr Anteater for the outside world, escaping the warm, sticky innards of Mr Anteater once and for all. 
 
 That, young ones, is how the phrase *'For the Fallen, I must...'* came about, for without the bravery and selflessness of Mr Ant, Mr Anteater would have continued to terrorize the nests of unsuspecting ants all over, striking fear and terror into the hearts and minds of our kin.
