by Matt Robertshaw, in a fit.
Marsha was an ant, which is to say she hated grasshoppers. She hated their singing. She hated their long legs. But she mostly hated how grasshoppers hated ants. What, she asked herself, had ant-kind done to deserve such steadfast contempt? Nothing. The grasshoppers were just jealous. Without fail, Marsha would return their glares as they hopped past the anthill.
One sunny day, Marsha was on leaf duty. She had found the perfect specimen. Green and fleshy, it must have been nine times her body weight. She slung it over her abdomen, no problem. Looking around, she realized her search had taken her to the other side of the lake. Her ant-like efficiency told her the most direct route home was over the water. So without a second thought she tossed the leaf onto the watery surface and climbed aboard.
She had nearly come to the opposite shore when her boat began to tremble. She looked over the edge and was splashed in the face. There was someone in the water, and struggling. She plunged her forelegs into the lake and, with great effort, heaved the drowning creature out of the drink and onto her leaf boat. Lo and behold, she found herself sharing her boat with a very wet grasshopper.
The rescued locust thanked her cordially. She spat. 'Why don't you like us?' she interrogated frankly. 'Who me?' he asked sheepishly. 'You saved my life. I love you!' Marsha hadn't expected this. 'But you're a grasshopper.' 'The names Kyle.' 'Marsha,' she said. They shook hands.
Reaching the shore on their little boat, Marsha returned home.
The next day, Kyle came to find her with a whole bag of leaves. 'Thanks,' she said, amazed.
The two became close friends. A day didn't go by that they didn't run into each other and exchange a kind word or a present. Marsha's mind began to be transformed by her love for Kyle. 'Maybe the ants are wrong to hate the grasshoppers,' she thought to herself. 'After all, Kyle is my best friend.' She no longer glared as the grasshoppers hopped by the anthill. He even started teaching her to sing.
Next, Kyle invited her to visit his friends in the meadow. 'They're not bad,' he said. 'You'll see.' The other grasshoppers were hesitant. 'Sing,' said Kyle. Shyly, Marsha hummed the few notes that Kyle had taught her. The grasshoppers were amazed. A singing ant! They welcomed her as their kin.
After that Marsha spent more and more time in the meadow. Another ant, she was called Joanne, asked Marsha where she had been after she returned late one evening with no leaves. 'Not with those silly grasshoppers,' she questioned. 'They're nice,' said Marsha, and added: 'You're the silly one.'
Irked by her sister ant's remark, Marsha ran back to the meadow. She ran so fast that her legs grew longer. 'What's the matter Marsha?' asked a tawny locust when she arrived in the meadow out of breath. 'It's those silly ants,' she said, crying. 'Forget about them,' he said, 'you're a grasshopper now.' She looked down at her long legs and realized she had, in fact turned into a grasshopper.
Marsha was a grasshopper, which is to say she hated ants.
Epilogue:
If one man, as a rule, hates whoever hates him, and if the man he hates follows the same rule, no one is getting anywhere. If, on the other hand, one of them changes his rule, decides to love whoever hates him, the other man loses his initial reason to hate and everyone wins.
