Just because we are a whole lot of wriggling worms all crammed into a confined space doesn’t mean to say we’re unintelligent, dumb invertebrates. What people don’t seem to realize is that we work as a team, rather like ants or bees. We should be viewed as a collective entity. Each individual worm contributes to the whole. Indeed, we’re not a mere collection of disgusting worms in a box. Our aim if we work cooperatively is to take over the world.
It helps that we’re hermaphrodites, especially when crammed up into such a restricted space. You never know if it’s a boy or a girl you are wriggling next to. It doesn’t matter. It enables us to multiply exponentially. We’ll take over the world at the drop of a hat.
Several million of us have volunteered for this mission. In fact, there are quite a few boxes of us making our way to a fertile plain where we can set up base. Not every box of worms will make it to the planned destination, but hopefully a couple of boxes will arrive intact.
Already word has it that the air force has shot down three or four of the balloons that were carrying us to our journey’s end. Whether or not any worm communities survived the thousands of feet fall into icy waters remains to be seen. Even the balloon we made disguised as coming from China has been shot down. It was to be the masterpiece of the revolution.
The glorious thing is that the Government is utterly bamboozled by us. They can’t work out why worms should be ballooning through their airspace. Hence they are too afraid to announce anything to the public. They would look silly if they simply said that each balloon was carrying a can of worms. Hopefully we can get other communities of worms around the world to join our revolutionary collective. And when we do…
I guess that Story 2525 is a significant enough number to depart from (as is the custom on this blog with a significant number) the usual fictional plot, and branch out instead into reality.
New Zealand doesn’t have snakes. It doesn’t have ferocious animals. It really doesn’t have too many horrid insects – unless you’re allergic to bee stings.
What you could encounter if you visited from overseas and was fossicking around the undergrowth of a forest (or even someone’s garden) would be a giant worm. Below is a picture of a worm that a boy in Christchurch (New Zealand) picked up in the garden last week. They grow to about a metre and a half (about 60 inches, about 5 feet) and can be as round as your wrist.
To be honest, I know you’d ask, I’m not sure if they are edible. I’ve never seen a recipe. The boy in the picture said he put it back in the garden and he wasn’t sure if it was dead or alive.
So if you’re planning on coming to New Zealand be prepared to encounter giant worms (of which there are about six different species).
On a brighter note: I’ve lived here for 73 years and never seen one! The boy’s mother described the find as “The worm from Hell”. I quite agree.
Ernie was having trouble with his computer. Half the programs had stopped working. Adverts would pop up uninvited. Anti-virus programs would find and delete important files that weren’t viruses or worms or Trojans or anything other than important files.
Ernie was at the end of his tether. One fine early summer’s day he picked up his PC and threw it out the window. Unbeknownst to him the CEOs of every computer company in the world were sitting outside under the window chatting during a break from an important meeting about what was the best bank in which to store all their greedy money. Ernie’s computer landed on top of them and killed the lot.
Ernie was arrested and tried for murder. When the evidence was presented the judge was heard to exclaim “Good on you, Ernie”.
The judge stood and applauded.
The jury stood and applauded.
Lawyers and stenographers stood and applauded.
The whole court room exploded into three hearty cheers for Ernie.
Lachlan had a worm farm. This was a layered cylindrical plastic container where the worms fed on household scraps. They created a magnificent compost for the garden.
These worms required little to no care, but Lachlan spent hours looking and caring for them.
His wife complained that he cared more for the worms more than he did her.
“That’s true,” said Lachlan. And it was true. He did.
Then one day Mrs What-ever-her-name-was-I-can’t-remember, Lachlan’s wife, upped and left. When he went to bed that night, Lachlan found all the worms wriggling between the sheets. Lachlan made a mental note: when the divorce comes through he’d make sure she got half of everything. He might even throw in some rotten stinking kitchen scraps for free.