I admit it, I really like this story. I’m not sure what else to say in this part, so, I’ll just shut up.
As the early morning light began to drink in the cool moisture of the evening’s rainfall, the small denizens of the deep earth squiggled to the surface to rejoice in the bounty of wetness. Not knowing their peril in such a flight, the pitiable earthworms tunnel toward the outside world, and squirm onto pavement or sidewalk to partake of the vast reservoirs of unabsorbed rain water.
And as humans, absorbed in their matutinal tasks, walk ignorantly around these thin, wilting corpses, the morning light swiftly illuminating the fading richness of their once colorful bodies. Callous to the tragedy of the scene, busy humans pass the dying, these tiny tillers of the soil, whose small sparks of life are drained into the cold hardness of man-made stony paths.
But, thanks to the power of modern technology, we can now hear the dying thoughts of the common earthworm.
Here are a few of those thoughts.
“Wet. Open-ness. Cold. Hard. No down into softness. Jimmmmmmmy.”
“Oh, sure. Big ground-pounders avoiding my soon to be dead self. Avoiding getting my goo on their pounding stompers. I hope my family avoids your corpse, pal.”
“Hovering shape. Beak. Ouch. Nooooooooooo!!!!!”
“And so to mine own end I go. No more to be divided. No more to merely tunnel. I have reached for the sun, and, in reaching, I die.”
“They call me Dr. Worm. Good Morning. How are you? I’m Dr. Worm.”
The dying thoughts of earthworms. Strange? Yes. Isn’t that why you read the Word of the Day? Of course, the last thought was brought to you by They Might Be Giants. For those that don’t know, they have a song called “Doctor Worm.” Of course, the last line of this tale is from that song.
matutinal / MAT-oot-in-al / happening in the morning.