Stamp

there once lived a stamp collector who, despite his overall plainness, had a particular way of twisting his mustache that gave all the passers by the willies. One day, when he was waiting for a particularly expensive stamp to arrive, for he had mail-ordered it from an obscure catalogue only he and a few other elite members of the stamp-collecting society were privy to, he was carefully examining a glass jar, inside which was about a tablespoonful of ants. He was growing antsy waiting for this stamp to arrive, so he decided to turn this feeling into a physical metaphor to pass the time, and it only felt logical to choose ants as the centerpiece. After about an hour of observing, the stamp collector, whose name happened to be Franklin Moreau, came to the conclusion that the ants must surely have gotten hungry by this point. Painfully aware of the fact that he had, up until this point, never dealt with ants, he tried in vain to rake his brain and find some clues regarding what an ant might prefer at dinner. Any clue would do, really.  

Franklin Moreau wasn't the kind of person one was prone to call a gourmand. In fact, he had little interest in food. His meals usually consisted of things that were as bland as his wardrobe, which, if it were any more bland than it already was, it would have elicited the opposite effect of attention, whatever that may be. In any case, the point being made here is that Franklin Moreau could hardly find food he wanted to eat, let alone be creative enough to please a group of ants. Luckily I have money, he thought, and money has a way of helping men save time and energy by allowing them to turn complicated issues to the hands of professionals.

Having made a few phone calls, Franklin Moreau was somewhat relieved to find out that ants would eat pretty much anything left out by humans. He picked up the jar and carried it with him to the dining room - a fine room, with dark wooden furniture, and a few old-fashioned oil lamps. Gerrard, Franklin Moreau's butler, was already waiting for him with a plate of unsalted mashed potatoes garnished with steamed cauliflower and beans atop a silver tray.

"Thank you, Gerrard. Please bring me my supplements as well. I must take them today." was all Franklin Moreau said to his butler, before the other man promptly turned on his heel and left the dining room, though not before elegantly placing the tray down in front of the chair that Franklin Moreau usually sat in.

Gerrard was a man of about 40, with Italianesque, curly, dark-brown hair, a slightly bulky build, and grand tastes, but not much ambition. He wasn't satisfied serving Franklin Moreau, however any other means of making as large an income would require much more effort on his part, so he remained where he was. He was involved in a lukewarm love affair with the maid, which was more of a poorly-devised revenge scheme than anything else. The cook's assistant had rejected Gerrard not too long ago, and he was half-hoping that this romance with the maid would somehow make the girl jealous. It didn't. It did, however, succeed in turning the maid into an obsessive stalker, who followed Gerrard in secret, watching him go about his daily routine, imagining the process to be extremely romantic. Seeing as how up until that point she had never been so much as looked at by the opposite sex, she convinced herself that she was in love with Gerrard, though the attention she received from him was miserly at best, unless the cook's assistant was looking or he was feeling particularly lonely at night.

Returning with the vitamin supplement powders that Franklin Moreau took every other week, Gerrard was feeling quite resentful. He was once again falling into one of those moods, where he would begin to pity himself, his life of servitude, and blame everyone but himself for his choices. Due to proximity, the blame fell on none other than Franklin Moreau most of the time, as it did that day as well. In his bout of angst, he did not notice that the lids of the supplement powder jars hadn't beed screwed on tightly enough (a result of the maid's sneaking after the last time Gerrard had touched the supplement jars), and just as he reached to set them down, one of the lids fell off and bounced loudly off the silver tray. This caused Gerrard to drop everything in shock, as the sound suddenly thrust him back into the present, away from his brooding thoughts. He watched in slow motion as one of the jars fell onto the table's edge, and the other - the one without the lid, flew slightly further, and neatly landed into the jar of ants, subsequently emptying all of its contents onto them.For about a minute, both men simply stared, for the probability of such a thing happening was most certainly in the negative percentile. After that one minute, however, the shocked silence very quickly turned to awkward silence.

"Well, at least none spilled onto the Persian rug. Please have the apothecary deliver a new jar of the same supplement tomorrow, Gerrard." Said Franklin Moreau, finally breaking the silence, "And take the empty jar out of the ant jar. Don't worry about the powder, I assume the ants will have that taken care of. I was told they'll eat anything humans eat. I eat those supplements, I am human. If it's good enough for me, it's good enough for the ants." Gerrard nodded, did what he was told, and stalked out of the room.

Later that day Gerrard was bid to tend to the jar of ants overnight. Although he agreed to do so, he merely took the jar to his quarters and put it down onto his dresser. He would do no such silly thing as watching a bunch of ants wabble about amidst a heap of vitamin powder when he could be getting precious beauty rest. Not that he cared for beauty either. It was not a manly thing to care about. He undressed, carefully hanging up his uniform, and went straight to bed, without any further thoughts. He fell asleep fairly quickly, and did not notice what happened then.

***

The ants, having eaten much of the vitamin supplement that was dumped by mistake into their jar, had no intention of slowing down for the night. In fact, the vitamins seemed to have awakened a strange urge in them, previously unknown to antkind. This new desire to grow stronger was almost unbearable, and seeing as how the ants are fairly determined by nature, they stopped at nothing to quench this urge. They began to build, using some of the remaining powder and their own saliva to create a substance that, when hardened, was quite strong. They proceeded making tiny, ant-sized barbells from it. Unfortunately though, when the ants tried to lift their creation they realized that although the material was sturdy, it was also fairly lightweight, which was no good if they wanted to continue improving their strength. Slowly, they reached the conclusion that perhaps it was worth climbing out of the jar to see if there were any worthy objects outside it, waiting to be trained with. The glass walls of the jar were rather slippery, so the ants used this powder-saliva substance to build a sort of path that went up the inside of the glass jar, and led them to the top and down the outside.

Once out, the ants dispersed, and began training with whatever objects they could find. They began by working as teams at first to lift such things as paper clips, which were lying around Gerrard's desk rather conveniently. They found that the more they trained, the more intense their desire grew, and the harder they pushed themselves. Toward the end of the night, each ant was capable of lifting a paper clip on his own, and the teams had moved on to heavier things such as pen caps. Thoroughly exhausted by morning, the ants marched single-file back into the jar, and buried themselves in the remnants of the powder. Nap time was in order.

***

The following day was a busy one for Gerrard. He had many errands to run, and on top of everything, the maid insisted he spend more time with her, as they both had a few hours to spare in-between. This was a typical turn of events whenever the maid know Gerrard had some time to spare, and Gerrard was usually wont to decline, but this time she managed to convince him with all sorts of dirty promises and lusty glances. In his frenzy, Gerrard did not check on the ants.

***

After a few nights, the ants had progressed exponentially, and were now beginning to train with significantly heavier objects. This night, they made their way down the dresser, and were forming small teams around each of the four legs of Gerrard's chair. It was still a bit too heavy for them, so after the first lift, they placed it back down rather awkwardly, which caused it to make some noise as it hit the floor. This woke Gerrard up from his sleep. Yawning widely, he turned on his bedside lamp and looked around. He didn't notice anything out of the ordinary right away because his first instinct wasn't to look down. However, he heard a faint rustling noise, as the ants readied themselves to lift the chair again, which made him first look in the direction of the chair, and then down, as he saw it slowly rise up by a centimetre.

Surely I must be dreaming, thought Gerrard. He pinched himself. Nope, that felt real enough. He silently observed as the ants lifted the chair up and down several times, each group getting smaller and smaller, until eventually only one ant remained lifting each leg. After a while, the ants seemed to have made sure that every one of them was capable of doing that on their own, and moved on to the small desk that stood next to the dresser. Gerrard watched in awe as the ants eventually conquered the desk as well, then as if on command, went single-file up the dresser and back into the jar just as the sun's first rays crept into the room.

***

"A weight-lifting contest? You can't be serious!"

"But darling! Look at the prize money! With this kind of money, you could finally quit being Moreau's lap-dog, and run away with me! Neither of us would have to work a day again!"

"And who would be doing the lifting then, you I suppose?" Gerrard cocked an eyebrow.

"Don't be silly, of course not. Look at those big, strong, manly muscles! Surely they're worth something. And if not, they can always be trained. There's a whole month before the contest, and I know you won't have a busy one. I heard Moreau talking." The maid smiled what was supposed to be a seductive smile at Gerrard. "And you know, then, when you win, we could you know... get married. And be together... Forever!"

Gerrard regarded her. She had thin, mousey hair, and a thin, mousy build. She was young and not entirely un-pretty, but she had thick ankles for a girl her size, and rough hands. And the fanatical gleam in her eyes bothered Gerrard the most. He shuddered at the idea of being married to her, especially after she said the words 'together forever' in that awful manner. He did take the poster from her though, and promised he'd give it some thought.

Shortly before going to bed, as he was getting undressed, Gerrard discovered the poster again in his chest pocket and put it down on the dresser. Ridiculous, he thought, as he turned towards the wall and went to sleep.

***

Gerrard was once again awakened by a soft thump, but this time it was neither his chair nor his desk that was being lifted. As Gerrard turned on the lamp, he saw his dresser wabbling unsteadily, as the ants struggled to lift it again. As it tilted, a few things began sliding off. Among them were his watch and a folded piece of paper.The poster! Why hadn't he thought of this before? If he entered the ants into the competition, he would be well on his way towards effortless fame and fortune. After that one contest, he could collect the winnings, and travel around the world showcasing the ants, and raking in the cash. That sounded quite promising indeed, although the important thing here was to keep it from the maid. Then and there, Gerrard decided he would train the ants. The progress they showed was incredible, and if they kept it up, he could be filthy rich. Richer than five Franklin Moreaus. In fact, the way he saw it, he could become so rich he'd hire Moreau as his butler. Yes, that was definitely a pleasing image indeed.

The next day Gerrard purchased a great deal of weights, and left out two on his bedroom floor. He took some of Franklin Moreau's vitamin supplement powder to make a trail leading from the glass jar to the weights, and surely enought, as night fell, the ants went marching one by one, following the trail, and lifted first one at a time, easily conquering it, then two at a time. Gerrard made sure to place one weight atop the other when he saw that the ants were growing bored of lifting just one. That night, the ants trained until each ant could lift both weights on its own. In a strange sort of way, Gerrard began to feel attached to the little guys.

***

"It's been a week since you came to see me, Gerrard. What could possibly be keeping you busy at night?"

"I decided to enter the contest. I train in the day and get quite exhausted towards the evening, so I prefer to spend the night sleeping. Alone."

The maid snorted and crossed her arms on her chest. "Do not. I keep a close watch, you know. I see you calmly reading the paper, going for walks. You think i don't notice, but I do darling." She spat. "So don't lie to me. I saw you buy those weights. But you've done nothing with them. Plus, you've not no barbell to attach them to. Don't take me for an idiot."

She was standing at the entrance to Gerrard's room, her foot in the door. She didn't look like she was going to cross the threshold, but then again, Gerrard had never seen her throw a fit before, so he didn't know what to expect. Most importantly though, he had to keep her out so she didn't see the ants.

"Right. Look, why don't we go for a drive tomorrow. I'll take you out for ice cream or something, whatever you like. Moreau will be away all day, so we can do as we please - er.. as you please."

"Really?" Her eyes lit up again in that way that Gerrard so detested. "This would be my first real date. Oh, how romantic! We could go for a stroll along the riverbank first. Then have some tea around noon. Then we could..." Gerrard tuned her out as his thoughts switched to the ants' exercise nightly routine. As she spoke about her plans for their date, they walked along the corridor, made a left, then a right, through the hall and into the north wing, where they stopped at the door to her bedroom. "Well, good night then," she said cheerily, and bounced off into her room.

Gerrard nodded and turned to go back, not taking notice of the somewhat blatant way she "accidentally" forgot to close the door as she changed into her night things.

***

Another ten days and two more awkward dates with the maid later, Gerrard was again in his room at night, watching as the ants lifted ten weights, all tied together with a thin rope so they wouldn't collapse. The ants had grown in both skill and size, and were now about a centimeter and a half, with very well-defined musculature. Gerrard watched them lovingly, as a kindly coach might, when his team reached great new heights. As the ants lifted the ten-fold weight for the seventeenth time, Gerrard allowed a satisfied chuckle escape his lips.

BANG! The door to Gerrard's room flew open. The maid stood, just past the threshold, absolutely livid. The fanaticism that lit up her eyes and usually made Gerrard fairly uncomfortable was almost maniacal now, and Gerrard looked at her with obvious unease. She glared at the ants, who, in turn, dropped the weights and for what it was worth, made the impression of glaring back.

"Ants. Well. That's not even poetic." The maid spat. "And here I thought that I was spending lonely nights hugging myself to sleep because he'd gone and got himself a lover, but this? I am competing with ANTS?!"

If she were to take her rage any further, thought Gerrard, she would surely start frothing at the mouth. At that, he suddenly became rather collected. After all she was quite small, if vicious. He could take her if anything.

"Darling," said Gerrard, his voice unnaturally sweet, "surely you remember the contest you so wanted me to enter. Well enter it I shall. Only see, weightlifting has never really been my thing, so isn't it rather wonderful that my newfound comrades here are ever so enthusiastic about the idea? It's all worked out rather well I should -" but he had no time to finish his sentence, for a knife zoomed past his ear and bounced off the wall behind him.

"What will it be?" The maid growled. Gerrard looked down and saw that she was quite armed indeed. Two more kitchen knives were stuck into her garter, and in her left hand she was brandishing an awl.

"What will what be?"

"It's you or the ants. You have about a minute to decide who goes before this little drama takes a really unpleasant turn, and I dispose of both of you."

"Don't you mean you want me to choose between you and the ants? I mean this whole thing.. I really think you're overreacting just a little bit."

Gerrard failed to receive a verbal response to his last comment due to the maid having launched herself at him, still brandishing the awl. He let out a stream of profanities and held out his hands to keep her at bay. The maid slashed at his hands with her awl, screeching and hurling herself at him over and again. It was quite the terrifying sight. Her thin hair, dirty and disheveled, hung around her face in tangled tendrils, and with her right hand, she reached for the knives in her garter amidst her frenzy of chaotic attacks.

Gerrard was in quite a lot of pain now, both his hands bleeding. If only he hadn't been taught not to hurt women under any cicrumstance, this could have been long over, but his inner moral code kept him from taking any action other than holding her off. Just as she launched herself once again at Gerrard, something incredible happened. The ants, who had been staring intently the entire time, rushed at the maid, and lifted her off the floor. This unexpected event made her lose balance and she fell, immediately picked up around her shoulders by the remaining ants, who then proceeded to carry her towards the exit. Gerrard was too shocked to react.

The ants carried the shrieking maid out of Gerrard's room, and out the door, which easily opened after being rammed a few times by the maid's feet. They took her out of the manor and down the street, and Gerrard could hear her yelling and calling for help, thought he couldn't help but think good riddance. That night the ants did not return.

***

Another week or so later, Gerrard had lost count, it was the day of the weightlifting competition and Franklin Moreau, looking for new ways to pass the time before another stamp arrived, insisted that Gerrard accopmany him to see it. This was an even rarer, even more expensive stamp he was waiting for now, and it took all his strength to keep his mind off it. Franklin Moreau wasn't a big fan of weightlifting, but his take on the matter was that something was better than nothing, and it might be a fine show, and that one wouldn't know until one experienced it for oneself.

Gerrard agreed with a blank expression that Franklin Moreau hadn't noticed. He had always thought of Gerrard as a somewhat emotionless fellow, and this blank expression seemed to agree with his idea of Gerrard just fine.

As the evening's events came to a close, Gerrard's mood had soured completely. This began rubbing off on Franklin Moreau, who proclaimed he'd gotten tired of the day's events, and demanded that Gerrard drive him home. To his great relief, he found in his mailbox the precious package he'd been waiting for so anxiously. The stamp collector took off his bland overcoat and tossed it to Gerrard to hang up. He then unwrapped the package with trembling hands. It was a box. A small, plain box with no embellishments, made of corrugated cardboard, filled with styrofoam, inside which was a tiny paper bag, wrapped in plastic.

The stamp was inside the paper bag. It was an antique thing, about two and a half times the size of a modern stamp, and showed a simple illustration. An ant carrying a leaf. Franklin Moreau held it up to the light with a pair of tweezers and admired it for a bit, then put it back into the box and turned to his butler.

"I say, Gerrard, I'd completely forgotten. Whatever happened to that jar of ants I had you looking after last month?"