So I went outside to retrieve my mail just the other day, and one letter in particular gained my attention. Size matters; big or small. This letter was 1/2″ x 1/2″ (literally; I measured it), and the writing was so small that my eyes began to water from the pressure of concentrating. However, I did have some magnifying lens in my kitchen, so you know where we go from here…

My trash can. My dog, Deuce, scattered trash everywhere. It was a pain. Especially since the garbage collectors were pulling up around the same time. They had a sad look on their face, and said, “There’s no need looking there for food. Why don’t you join us and make some money? It’s smelly, but it’s a living.” I didn’t give them an answer. Deuce just sat there and panted. Quickly after that…

I pulled out the magnifying lens, which helped me read the letter. And this is what it said:

Dear, Guinn: I’d like to invite you to dinner…

It was a dinner invitation. I was flattered and puzzled; I love invitations, but I didn’t know anyone small enough who would write a letter this size. I kept reading:

Come to your upstairs attic at seven o’clock if you have a hunger for fabulous food and more details.

Sincerely yours,

Carver T. Post

Who was Carver T. Post? And why did he want to meet me in my attic? How was he going to get into my attic? That place wasn’t the most ideal meeting spot, but I would be hungry around that seven, and I was never one to turn down free food, or more details.

I showed up at my attic at around 6 :55 (being the punctual guy that I am). No one was there, or so I thought. Then I heard a tiny voice from below me, “Glad to see your early; I like that in a man!”

I looked down, and asked, “Who is that?”

“Carver T. Post, your humble termite!”

“Termite?”

I crouched down, and sure enough, there was a termite the size of a cuticle, who was just looking at me. This was odd.

“Guinn, it is a pleasure and honor to meet an esteemed person, such as yourself.”

“Thanks.” Gee, I wonder if termites would pay royalties for producing any of the shows or songs I’ve written. I continued, “So what’s this all about? And where’s the fabulous food?”

“I don’t understand what you mean by ‘where’? Look all around you, noble sire.”

Carver was referring to my attic. I lost my appetite quickly.

“That’s fine; I’ll wait for the dessert.”

“Oh,” Carver looked disappointed. “Well, maybe we should get to the matter at hand. My constituents have elected me to represent them. And our voice cries and even begs for you to reconsider your action in calling the Pest control.”

I saw where this was heading. “So you’re the termites.” I said. Months back, a contracter told me that I needed my window pane replaced in my bedroom, because of termites. Damage that set me back a couple hundred dollars.

“It wasn’t the populace at large, Guinn. A couple of young radicals went beyond their bounds and damaged your window.”

“It looked like more than ‘a couple’ did the damage I saw at the window.”

“Oh, well, you know, there’s so many of us. What humans consider a couple, termites would call around two or three hundred. So there is a little difference.”

“Yeah, just a little. Well, I’m sure termites are aware of consequences as well.”

“Yes.”

“And that is why I’m calling the pest control man.”

“But consider this, Guinn. The radicals have been dealt with harshly, so can we call that a reparation?”

“What’s gonna keep another group of radicals from sprouting up?” I still can’t believe I was actually doing this.

“Our populace at large are a relatively peaceful people. This was just as hard on me as it was you.”

“How so?” This would be interesting.

“One of the rebels…was my son. In fact, thirty of them were.”

That was it. I started to make my way out the door. Carver cried desperately, “Where are you going, Guinn?”

“I’m going to watch the football game. I’ve already missed the better half of the first quarter listening to this stupidity!”

“Stupid to you, perhaps, but what about my people? I only have two sons left as a result of my other sons’ misbehavior. So I will only give a portion of the legacy I could have given to my people. I wish to make up for this in diplomacy. You would heal this old termite’s heart if you made him believe that his people would go on after he passed. We are a humble people, Guinn; please, do not let the actions of the few decide the outcome of the many.”

I thought about this. I controlled the fate of a race in my very hands; it was god-like. I started to point my finger to see if lightning would come out. I stopped when Carver asked what I was doing. This could go either way, really; I could be a loving forgiving deity, or a ruthless, bloodlusting titan of old. It was then I said, “What will I get in return for kindness?”

“I have a daughter who is clean and pure, never touched by any other termite…”

“No, no. I don’t think that’s going to work, Carver. How about a way to make up the damage you guys caused?”

“How could we do this?”

“A: Never eat the wood of this house again. B: Ward off any other termites that would.”

“We can do this! We can do this!”

“That’s great! Well, I’m off. Thanks for the invite.”

“Yes, stay if you like! Go if you must! We will live up to the demands! And not only that, we will erect a statue of you and dedicate this spot because of our negotiations!”

“Great. Well, tell you daughter and your people I said hello.”

“I will, Guinn Terry Davis, you hero among men! I will!”

It was almost a tearful parting. Carver had enough tears for the both of us.

Epilogue:

I walked away from that scene not ever expecting to hear from Carver again, until I received another letter from Carver, similar to the one at the beginning of this story. It was an update on the “Statue of Guinn Fund”. He told me that funding was a little more difficult to raise than he first anticipated, but he thought things would pick up soon. He also sent me a picture of his daughter, saying that if I ever changed my mind about her, to let him know. Actually, aside from the pincers, antennas, six legs, abdomen, thorax, and beady black eyes, she was kind of cute.