Petian the locust travelled through the plains of wheat, happily eating away along with several millions of his co-locusts. Suddenly, a pang of guilt came over Petian. This wasn't his wheat! Some farmers had worked very hard to produce this lovely golden grain, and now, here he was, taking it away from them! They would have no wheat to sell, and would have no money, and would be reduced to poverty, most likely. And what for? For him, a repulsive, clonish bug. He wasn't even that hungry.
"Wait," Petain yelled to the several millions of locusts he was travelling with. "We shouldn't be doing this."
They were some murmurs and hushed discussions and a bit of grumbling, and then a general agreement. Hungry as some of them were, this was wrong. The problem was, they didn't really know what else to do, seeing as they were untrained in the art of agriculture. So, instead, they took up pottery, and became quite skilled as craftsmen.
They used the profits from their first jugs to buy more spinning wheels and kiln and laquer and so on, and continued to re-invest the majority of their profits for many years. The remainder was used to buy wheat at reasonable prices. At Petian's insistence, much was spent on equipment, marketing techniques and research and development. The locust pottery became very chique and nouveau. There was just something about having a vase which had been fashioned by an insect.
Petian, as the main designer of the pottery, was as famous as any politician or movie star. He was welcomed everywhere: into the elite clubs, the private showings, and the bedrooms. Everywhere, he recieved praise for his innovative designs, which only encouraged him to try every new idea he came up with.
Soon, however, the locust pottery began to become a little TOO avante-garde. No longer were the pots rounded. No longer did the jugs and vases have any real value as containers. Instead, they seemed to convey a sorrowful message. The gentle curvature seemed to speak of a longing for times past. The manner in which the pottery was hollowed cried out for the thievery of wheat. Subtle indentations most non-experts would overlook spoke of a locust's need to be free.
The pottery was such a blatant cry out against civilization that more and more humans simply refused to buy it. It was an insult to the human way of life. Many smashed their pieces. Former friends of Petian now turned him away, and left messages on his machine along the lines of "at least we aren't damn locusts". Petian was so distraught by the manner in which his former human friends now treated him that he became increasingly resentful towards the human race. This resentment crept into his designs, in particular with the "Humans Suck" line of vases.
Petian was sick of denying his true self, and at the next Locust Pottery Incorporated board meeting, he announced that the pottery company was closing. If humanity could not accept honest locust pottery, it was their loss. He would lead them back to the prairies. However, the other locusts were not so sure. They encouraged Petian to return to the old ways, but they quite preferred the new. They would stay on in the pottery company, and go back to the old designs.
Petian yelled something about traitors, and left the meeting in tears. He flew and flew and flew across the pitiful world he had once loved so strongly, homing in on some wheat in a nearby field. He was still far from the prairies, and he knew he'd need a snack to tide him over on for the long flight home. Home!
The wheat was succulent. He'd forgotten the taste of truly fresh wheat, and the joy which came from killing your own meal. His previous doubts were gone. The locust life was the life he was meant to lead.