Such Ant-agony!

Once upon a time in a bustling ant colony, there lived an honest and earnest little ant named TransparAnt.

TransparAnt believed in community service, honesty, and doing something useful. It spent unpaid hours fixing leaks in tunnels, arranging extra food crumbs, and keeping the accounts clear and open—sincerely trying to make life in the anthill easier for everyone.

All residAnts admired its efforts and dedication.

Well—correction—not all, but most. Among the residAnts lived an ant named PedAnt. PedAnt carried a magnifying glass and had a relentless itch for fault-finding. It poked and prodded, dug into every tiny detail, and scrutinized every crumb counted by TransparAnt. Every time TransparAnt lifted ten grains, PedAnt dropped one doubt, one question.

But PedAnt never asked these questions face-to-face.

Oh no! Instead, it broadcast its queries on the colony’s WhatsAnt group—a digital burrow where ants shared updates on aphid patrols and weather alerts.

PedAnt’s messages in the WhatsAnt group were masterpieces of accusation:

“Why does this sand pile look lopsided?”
“Why was that extra grain of sand used without a vote?”
“Who approved taking out the colony’s trash through this hole?”

“Transparency! Transparency!” PedAnt chanted in the WhatsAnt group, even though all reports, spreadsheets, and expense claims were already public.

It became an endless loop—like a worker ant chasing its own tail.

TransparAnt’s once-vibrant energy began to fade. Instead of doing the community work it loved, it now spent its days glued to the WhatsAnt feed, crafting responses to PedAnt’s barrage of queries.

The colony’s reaction was mixed.

The older ants chuckled. They remembered when PedAnt had once taken up a community role—and botched it spectacularly, leaving others (mostly TransparAnt) to clean up the mess.

“Same old noise from the nitpicker,” they whispered.
“Let it yap all it wants,” they thought.

They didn’t take its questioning seriously.

But newer ants were more easily swayed.

“Hmm, maybe PedAnt has a point?” they wondered.

And soon, they too joined the noise. The WhatsAnt group became a buzzing circus of accusations, fault-finding, and personal jabs.

TransparAnt felt the sting most deeply. The vibrAnt community it loved now seemed suspicious and cynical, sapping its motivation.

Finally, TransparAnt had enough. It called an emergency mound meeting. With the entire colony gathered, it laid out every answer, document, and decision in exhaustive detail—hours of it, mandibles aching from the effort.

Soon it became clear. The “crises” PedAnt had pointed out were either non-existent or quite minor. Gradually, the roaring indignation from PedAnt and its merry band of sycophAnts began to fade, as the colony realized the scandal was little more than a few half-truths and a quibbler with too much time on its hands.

This whole exercise had taken a toll on TransparAnt. In utter fatigue, it turned to PedAnt.

“You’ve got all the answers, friend. Why don’t you take over as head of community service? Show us how it’s done impeccably—no questions left unanswered.”

The room fell silent. PedAnt froze. Its antennae drooped.

“Hmmm,” it stammered. “I’m just asking questions… for the good of the colony.”

And with that, it scuttled back into its hole. The meeting ended. The veterAnts chuckled.

The WhatsAnt buzz paused—for now. But who knew when it might start again, sparked by another nit that PedAnt would pick?

And so, the anthill trudged on, one grudging step forward, two suspicious ones back.

The colony had learned the hard way: ants like PedAnt chip away at the foundation of beautiful anthills—leaving the doers drained, the colony divided, and the future-unclear.