Envy and Schadenfreude: Avec boudin noir

A termite mound appears in midair above the Trump tower in Chicago, waiting to descend.  A poet looks up from his oolong tea and smiles.  The time has come.

There had been movie stars as politicians before.  Mostly in California, but some had gone national. They more or less fell in line with the traditional roles of politicians with an aversion to controversy.  It was still about the issues, it was not about them.  In time, unless there were reruns, we forgot that they had been in the movies.  The steam from the tea wafted up to join with the fetid stench of the mound.

The poet knew that termites do not have hard exoskeletons like other insects.  They remain almost larval into adulthood. This provides them with flexibility.  All of them start off hatching in eggs that can develop into any caste.  Through a series of molts they can develop into workers or soldiers or developers.  Older termites can go through regressive molts and and develop into youngsters again.  All young and virile with abnormally large pincers.   In time, if all goes well and there are sufficient building materials and the forgiveness of loans, large structures will emerge from the workers.  And the hive will have a place to stay for weekend get-aways or business trips.

Inside the mound, the king termite dines with a mosquito named Montesquieu.  After the blood sausage is served, they have a aperitif of Rapamycin, as the king heard that the drug's intake extended the lifespan in mice and rats as much as 15 percent.  "It can happen," the King exclaimed.  "It will happen.  Our scientists have tremendous potential.  We have tremendous termites in this hive. Someday this mound will be huge, enormous."

"What must be done, sire," inquired Montesquieu delicately, "about the ants?"

"Ahh my dear friend," the King replied smugly, "It will not be long until the ants beg to kiss my ring.  We have built an impenetrable wall around the hill.  And the ant queen has paid for it.   It is a glorious thing I have done, all ahead of schedule and under-budget.   Our hive is going to be huge I tell you.   This is why real leadership is important folks.  I can make us great again!"

The poet, scrabbles a few notes on his napkin:

"Thus and the twilight's last gloaming
Injurious, since it secret
Shall torment me listening
To the story not thought of the end."