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In the doldrums of mid-Sunday afternoons I would sit and gaze out over my balcony at the world beneath my feet, munching on buttered toast laced with blueberry jam, sipping on Japanese mocha (freeze-dried and instant, maybe, but handcrafted , ma'am; read the label and see). And then, upon finishing, I'd feed my ants.

It's easy - I just leave my plate out overnight. By next morning it would have been stripped empty of crumbs, leaving the china pristine and white. This always give me great pleasure, knowing that my subjects have been well-fed for yet another week of mischief and leisure.

I am a benevolent dictator. A tyrant most kind, I give them the space to roam about, but other than that they have no say. Like every good genial monarch, I look upon them with condescending affection. Every morning I check my dry bathroom sink before I fill the basin with water lest I accidentally drown someone down it (and to his family that would surely be a bother). I tread carefully wherever I go for, like Solomon, I constantly hear their distress over children being trampled beneath the feet of yet another arrogant regress.

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