My Neighbour's Ant

"Ouch!" I exclaimed as my neighbour's ant bit my big toe.

"How many times have I told you not to hide the sugar," the ant snapped annoyed.

"I always told you that he was as an avaricious avocado," my neighbour said appearing at my window.

"I'm neither an avocado nor an ape," I disputed hotly, "Why don't you mind your own business?"

"My businesses are doing fine thank you, but I don't deny the ant's daily fix," the neighbour said pompously.

"You are fixated about the ant, why don't you become a PETA volunteer?" I sneered.

"Flattery will get you nowhere!" my neighbour chuckled.

"Should I flatter you because you have flat feet?" I asked.

"But where is the sugar?" the ant asked.

"I hid it in one of my socks and I won't tell you that I concealed it under the mattress," I replied cunningly.

"Then how will the ant find it?" the neighbour asked distressed.

"He has to play the blind man's buff first," I said laying down the line.

"You mean in the buff?" asked my neighbour, "that's scandalous!"

"I have always liked Fashion TV," said the ant.

"I also said that you have flat feet," I told my neighbour pointedly.

"They aren't flat," my neighbour said examining his trotters, "they are webbed feet."

"Like a duck?" I asked.

"My feet are like pins," the ant said inspecting his footsies.

"That's because you like pin-up girls," the neighbour told the ant.

"I only see the ones I find in your house," the ant replied.

"They must be works of art!" I said sarcastically.

"I won't lend you my copies of Penthouse," my neighbour said stiffly.

"You did not show me those!" the ant protested.

"I give you sugar daily," my neighbour reminded the ant haughtily.

"But not sugar babes," I said cunningly.

"Like babes in the wood more likely!" my neighbour replied with a wink.

"You find pinup girls in the forest?" I asked interested at the thought.

"What about sugar?" the ant asked anxiously.

"Red ants more likely," I said.

"Those were the original inhabitants before Columbus discovered America," the ant said proudly.

"And Columbus took their gold and gave them lollipops?" I sneered.

"Those were the Spanish conquistadors in Mexico," my neighbour said correcting me.

"It must have been a substantial amount of lollipop for such history and geography!" I exclaimed.

"Lollipop has gone on creating scandal after scandal if you believe the newspapers," my neighbour chimed in.

"What about the sugar?" the ant asked desperately, "get me some or I will get withdrawal symptoms."

"You have already taken two overdrafts," the neighbour reminded him.

"That's why I was looking for sugar at his house," the ant told my neighbour.

"You mean you want a loan, what do have for collateral?" I asked the ant.

"Two anthill penthouses," the ant said lowering his voice, "and a retreat in Capri."

"Do you have a private jet also?" I asked in sheer amazement.

"Two pilots included," the ant replied smugly.

"Why didn't you say so before?" my neighbour asked indignantly.

"I don't want pigs to have wings," the ant replied.

"You called him a pig?" I asked the ant.

"He hid all the girlie magazines from me," the ant replied accusingly.

"I may be porcine, but I am not a sausage," my neighbour replied superciliously.

"Do you wash behind the ears?" I asked him, "Because sausages don't."

"I have a Jacuzzi," the ant bragged.

"And, you make babes in the wood take the plunge!" I asked amazed.

"You called me a sausage you potbellied pumpkin?" My neighbour gasped.

"I don't have a pot belly?" I protested.

"You have jellied beans for an intestine!" he barked.

"You should wash your dirty colon," I said hotly.

"Now, now gentlemen, let us be cool as cucumbers," the ant said soothingly.

"He is a cucumber then," my neighbour said insultingly.

"And, you are a bawdy bandicoot," I said annoyed.

"Bandicoots aren't ribald!" the ant protested, "I have them in my private zoo."

"Then you must be telling them dirty jokes," the neighbour said.

"Quite a lot, I tell them dirty jokes at bedtime," the ant replied.

"They must have pornographic nightmares!" I exclaimed.

"Do they also hallucinate in blue?" my neighbour asked interested.

"That's when I have LSD with the dancing girls," the ant said proudly.

"Give me a one way ticket to your cabaret," my neighbour told the ant pleadingly.

"First show me the girlie magazines," the ant said winking at me.

"You can give them to me also," I said.

"We can't corrupt you," they replied in unison.

"But I'm not incorruptible!" I pleaded, "I should make a start someday."

"What will you have for starters?" the ant asked.

"I won't supply any liquor," my neighbour added hastily.

"Let's begin with the dancing girls," I said brightly.

"I would like that too," my neighbour said greedily.

"But you won't give me sugar?" the ant said fixing me with his beady eyes.

"You might turn diabetic," I explained hastily.

"Whoever heard of diabetic Formicidae," the ant said contemptuously.

"They are doing research to determine why ants don't need insulin, penicillin or ampicillin," I said.

"I could fund the research," the ant said thoughtfully.

"You must be a philanthropic ant!" I exclaimed.

"Certainly not a philandering philistine like you," my neighbour said addressing me.

"I am a philistine and you have all the girlie magazines!" I exclaimed sarcastically.

"Gentleman let's not quarrel, let's bring on the dancing girls," he said clapping his rear legs.

At the sound of his clap a row of scantily clad ants emerged from the ground and began belly dancing.

"I like belles," my neighbour said mesmerised as the dancers twirled their legs and veils.

"But there is no music," I complained.

The ant snapped its forefeet and an orchestra of bumblebees arrived.

"Let there be music," the ant commanded.

The bumblebees bowed low and began playing their violins, harps, saxophones, trumpets, double bass, the piano, and drums.

"What's the racket about?" asked a policeman arriving on the scene his potbelly shaking in annoyance.

"Another philistine," the ant remarked.

"I'm a policeman, not a philistine," the guardian of law and order barked.

"We were hearing some music and watching the dancing damsels," I said lamely.

"You are having a lewd performance on the streets!" he exclaimed his eyes climbing up to his forehead.

The orchestra reached a crescendo and gently faded off. The musicians packed their bags and left hurriedly followed by the dancing ants.

"You spoiled all the fun," I told the policeman accusingly.

"That's why I didn't bring the strippers," the ant sighed, "they all went to Las Vegas."

"You are a spoilsport," I told the policeman angrily.

"Whose sport did I spoil?" he asked surprised.

"The Olympics," the ant told him.

"Aha!" The policeman exclaimed twirling his baton, "now let me see who can run a mile under a minute."

"I'm going, I'm going," I said hurriedly.

"You forgot to give me the sugar babies," the ant said and scuttled off with my neighbour.

The policeman, who was swinging his baton back and forth in amusement, accidentally swung it at his head and passed out.