Hajnóczy Péter

The Ant and the Cricket

 

Translated from Hungarian and historically transposed by Adam Moravanszky

 

The November wind was just tearing the last dry and withered leaves from the rattling branches, as the cricket and the ant ran into each other at the edge of the forest.

The ant had a somewhat worn, goose down filled winter coat on that reeked of mothballs – he bought it at a discount at the factory outlet together with his waterproof hiking shoes in July, while the cricket was visibly freezing in his thin and unlined jeans jacket.  Gloveless, he stood with his hands in his pockets.

“Good day, cricket neighbor!” said the ant. “You are not sweating in your coat as far as I can tell…”

“It’s cold indeed, ant neighbor!” replied the cricket. “This wind goes to the very bones.”

The ant tightened the scarf around his neck with his gloved hand. “My wife knit it.” he said. “A skilled woman – she watches TV and is always knitting or crocheting something meanwhile. You, I believe, are a bachelor subleasing a room.”

“Oh yeah.” nodded the cricket. “You know, I am always just playing my guitar, I hardly have time left for other stuff…”

He pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket and offered it to the ant.

The ant shook his head, “No, thank you.  It’s more than three months now that I quit. It’s not only a useless, unhealthy passion, but it also costs money. From the price of a box of cigarettes, a hard working person can have breakfast or even dinner!” He rasped his throat. “My wife and I plan to move to a larger apartment next year.  Floor heating, two bathrooms, and the bus to the landfill stops right in front of the house!”

The cricket lit a cigarette. 

“When someone plays guitar while others work so they get ahead in life…” the ant shook his head again. “Perhaps you think, my dear cricket neighbor, that we won’t have a winter this year?”

“I am leaving in a week.” replied the cricket. “I will only be back in May.”

“You will be gone?” the ant shook his head in astonishment, “Perhaps you are seeing some relatives?”

“I don’t have anyone,” said the cricket, “I just sit at home and play my guitar…”

“I’m curious to know, perhaps you could say where you’re going?” smiled the ant.

“First to Paris.” said the cricket.

“To Paris?” the ant gave the cricket a wide-eyed stare, and raised his voice, “Are you kidding, dear neighbor? How could you afford to spend the winter in Paris?”

“I am going on tour with the band.  We’re going to be playing all over Europe.” said the cricket. 

The ant stared at the ground for a while, then said, in a begging voice, “Considering our old acquaintance, could you do me an important favor?”

“Sure” encouraged him the cricket, “Gladly.”

“I’d like to ask you, when you get to Paris,” said the ant, “to pay a visit to Mr. La Fontaine, and tell him to kiss my ass.”