The Posse of Ants

When they had finally squashed all the ants the two editors sat back and looked at one another in dismay. Le Bon David picked up the envelope gingerly and peered inside.

Oh look, he said, here's a letter. Let's see what the old genius has to say for himself.

He pulled it out, unfolded it and began to read:


GENTLEMEN! Are you sweating? Are you alarmed? Surprised? Yes, the Divine Dali has more to say than can be conveyed by a posse of ANTS!

So! You let that old reprobate Freud loose on me in your magazine! Do you think I care? No! A Genius does not care what a spiteful old ex-dream interpreter has to say of him. I lie ? Dali does not lie! Dali is ABOVE LYING! And below-lying.

However, a SLUR has been cast upon me, and I shall use it.

I have a passion for bicycles. That much of what the old bumbler said is true. Therefore I demand that you give me equal space in your magazine to write my own column. It will illuminate the BICYCLE, the sweaty drippings, the impotent strivings and the flowing salivations that result when an ARTIST EXTRAORDINAIRE contemplates the bicycle.
If you will not, you may look forward to more Surrealistic outpourings from Daliesque envelopes containing less interpretable and squashable organisms than ANTS!

Now Gentlemen, I know you are going to LOVE,

the scribblings of

The Divine Dali xxx


Le Bon David looked up. Are you thinking what I'm thinking? he said to the VeloDrone.

We have opened up a can of worms, said the VeloDrone, nodding gravely. Goodbye order, goodbye reason, goodbye philosophy, unless we can come up with a plan.