i wrote a story once about a planet pretty close to earth. In the story, the planet was filled with tiny little insects that could talk. The tiny little buggies were the most advanced species on the planet, or at least they thought so. In fact the little buggies were so advanced that they liked to build machines to make their lives better, machines to keep each other alive, and machines to give them pleasure, but they especially liked inventing machines with which to smash each other with. The little buggies would separate into teams based on how many legs they had or how big their buggy eyes were or whether they could fly or not. Then the teams of buggies would play with fancy squashing machines.
The buggies believed that they had evolved from a smaller less intelligent organism. What most of them didn't think about was if they had in fact evolved from that lesser being, all of the little buggy machines were really messing up the whole evolutionary process. The machines were making it so all of the sickly buggies and the buggies with deformities and malfunctions were being allowed to make more little buggies. This went on for so long that the buggies actually suffered from de-evolution, a fact which they were too busy with buggy machines to notice. Actually there were a couple especially intelligent buggies that realized what was happening, but when they tried to tell other little buggies they ended up in buggy jail or buggy institutions for the mentally disturbed. But the de-evolution didn't last for long, all the little buggies ended up squashing each other with nasty machines until every little buggy was a little puddle on the windshield of history.
I threw the story away, but i think it went something like that. it was shit.