KING OF THE ANTS
By Kurt Nimmo Mark rolled a cigarette. He was quite good at it now. In the past he had bought packaged cigarettes. But those were too expensive for him now. He stood on the CTA platform. There were people all around waiting for the next train. None of them took notice of Mark's cigarette rolling talent. He did it with one hand like a cowboy in the movies. When he finished rolling he put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it with a green disposable lighter. A woman to his right moved away from him. She was offended by cigarette smoke. It seemed to Mark that too many people were offended by too many things. He inhaled on the cigarette as he turned to look at the woman. She was about twenty-seven or eight, he guessed, and dressed for business. Mark tried to estimate the size of her breasts. It was impossible with the business clothes. The woman sensed Mark looking at her. She curled her lip and turned away. Mark smirked. He looked at her backside. Nice ass, he thought. It was poured in a knee-length skirt with the line of her panties visible in the mid-afternoon sunlight. I like that, Mark thought. I like to see that and think about what lies on the other side. He puffed on the hand-rolled cigarette. A minute later the train arrived. * * * He was downtown. There was the job interview. It was at three. Mark walked along the sidewalk. He did not have a watch. Once he did, but he had pawned it months before. Gold with diamonds. The man in the pawn shop had given him thirty dollars. The watch had been worth much more. But Mark did not argue with the man in the pawn shop. He took the money and the ticket and walked out. Two days later he was penniless again. Thirty bucks and a gold watch do not get you much in this world, Mark had thought at the time. He estimated it was about two or two thirty, he was not really certain. He walked along the sidewalk with the hordes of people moving here and there. All of them seemed to have purpose. Mark had none. He had the interview but he was not really interested. The woman's name he was to ask for was Miriam. He had talked with her on the phone. She was on the fortieth floor of the Mercantile Building. Mark had no idea where that was. He walked along vaguely thinking about it. Is she a looker or an old hag, this Miriam? He imagined her to be radiantly beautiful. Long blonde hair and long legs and large supple breasts. She would be impressed by Mark and his sexual magnetism. Miriam would go home with him and fuck him and declare unending love for him body and soul. No matter that home was a friend's sofa on the near west side. No matter that he was broke. No matter that he lacked ambition and resolve. No matter. She would love him forever. She would work in the Mercantile Building and he would stay in her loft apartment and drink good beer and smoke imported cigarettes and watch cable television. In the evening he would fuck her. She would be satisfied with that and nothing more. Miriam would bring around her girlfriends and they too would be captivated by his sexual magnetism and prowess. He would fuck the girlfriends as well and they would fight over him and Mark would sit back and laugh like a drunken Buddha. Miriam would buy him a new gold watch with diamonds for Christmas. He would buy her crotchless underwear from Victoria's Secret. * * * Mark found the Mercantile Building. It was near the Opera House. People went in and out of the building lobby through revolving doors trimmed in brass. Mark watched them for a minute. Ants, he thought. They are ants. Do you want to be an ant? Or do you want to be the King of the Ants, he asked himself. King! He moved toward the revolving doors. This Miriam, he thought, she will help me to become King of the Ants. I can use her. She will fall under my power. One night with me and she will be mine. She will answer to my beckon call. She will convince the president of the Mercantile Exchange that I am the one. A natural leader. He will invite me in his suite, pour me a glass of good wine, offer me a hundred dollar Havana cigar. We will talk business. He will immediately realize my abilities. In a few weeks I will be King of the Ants. God of the Ant Hill. Miriam will love me. Her girlfriends will love me. All of them will fuck me and give me expensive presents. He was standing in the lobby of the Mercantile Building lost in his dream when the security guard approached him. Can I help you, the security guard asked. Mark turned, his dream smashed, and looked at the man. Um, he answered, where is Staff Unlimited? Suite 4400, the guard replied. Take the elevator over there. Mark, his shoulders slumped, worked his way over to the elevators. It was a long way up to the fortieth floor. * * * Hello, the woman said, I'm Miriam Belkins. Mark looked at her. She was fifty, maybe a few years older, dowdy as a librarian and dressed in a forest green business outfit. She offered her hand and Mark shook it limply. Miriam asked him to have a seat in the reception area while she went for an application. Did he have two pieces of identification? References? Mark said he did. Good, Miriam said with a smile, and then she walked off to get the application. He found a seat and fell into it. Across the room was the receptionist. She worked on a computer. Mark stared at her. She was in her early twenties. Long chestnut colored hair pinned up behind her head. Small gold earrings. Red painted lips. She looked at the computer and did not acknowledge him. Mark wanted her to acknowledge him. He insisted that she do so. If not Miriam, he thought, well then this woman. Maybe she is the president's mistress. She looks like she could very well be the president's mistress, he decided. Mark had to find out. He had to do something. He was confident this woman would see him for what he was -- intelligent, sexually attractive, very ambitious and quite endearing -- and now was his chance to impress her and get the ball of justly deserved success and fame rolling. Mark launched himself from the chair and walked across the room to the woman. She did not seem to notice. She was busy at the computer. Hi, he said, my name is Mark. I'm here to apply for an executive position. Miriam knows all about me. I'm the right man for the job. You will see me around here a lot in the next few weeks. I just thought I'd introduce myself. Mark, like I said. And you are? The woman did not turn. She looked at the computer. Her fingers danced across the keyboard at a remarkable speed. That's nice, she said, not bothering to look away from the computer screen. If you please, have a seat. Ms. Belkins will return shortly. Mark, he repeated, Mark Damsell. Executive material. Please to make your... The woman moved her head away from the screen for a short second and gave him a sharp look. Please, she said firmly, have a seat, and then her attention returned to the computer screen. Mark turned away. It suddenly felt like there was no air in the room. As if he were suffocating. He stood there in the middle of the room for a second. Bitch, he thought. The little bitch does not know who I am. Well, fuck her and the hag Miriam too. He looked for the door. It was across the room. He made for it in record time. * * * Watch this, Mark said to the woman. She stood near him on the subway platform. I can roll a cigarette, he boasted, with one hand. The woman ignored him. She was about thirty, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and held a large black leather valise. Mark rolled the cigarette quickly, efficiently, and then put it in his mouth. He was quite proud of himself. I can do other things, he said, and gave her the eye. The woman decided to put space between herself and him. Mark was not deterred. He followed her with the cigarette dangling from his mouth. Hey, he said, what's the matter with you? I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just a guy, a nice guy, you will see. Give me a chance. I can do all kinds of things. I'm a good carpenter. I can fix your house. I am a good lover. I can take care of all your needs. Just give me a chance. One small chance, okay? The woman was afraid now. She turned to look at him. Her eyes were filled with fear and distrust. C'mon, Mark said, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm a nice guy, really I am. You'll see. I promise. The woman stood near the tracks. There was nowhere for her to go. She looked around, frantically, not certain what to do. Mark continued to move forward. Hey, a deep male voice boomed, stay away from that woman. Marked turned, saw a very large black man with a shaven head and a gold earring nearby. If you know what's good for you, the man warned, you'll stop messing with her. I just, Mark stammered, but the black man cut him off. Just keep your distance, he said. Sure, Mark replied, meekly, and then the train arrived. The train doors clanked open and people began to file into the train. Mark fell in with them, a second before the doors closed with a thud. The black man was on the platform, as was the woman with the leather valise. Mark looked at them through the window. The train moved forward into the darkness of the subway tunnel. Excuse, a female voice said from behind Mark, but there is no smoking on this train. He turned, looked at the voice. It was a middle age black woman in a CTA uniform. She glared at the unlit cigarette in Mark's mouth. Oh, he said, sorry. Mark took the hand-rolled cigarette from his mouth and looked at it. Beautiful, he thought, it is just beautiful what I can do with a little tobacco and a paper. The train moved forward.
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