My abject apologies for the havoc I created in your lives today. The Mortgage Foreclosure Fiasco going on up here above the soil line is nothing compared to what I've done to you! Hundreds, maybe thousands of you, little ones, big ones, skinny ones, fat ones, all turned up and turned out in a few thrusts of a well aimed spading fork. I tried to be careful, but even homicide (or is it wormicide?) may have resulted a few times. Oh, I am so very sorry.
You have been building your cozy little homes in that deep pile of leaves for years now. Who knows when the first bagful was dumped into that clever ring of chicken wire alongside our garden wall? Even though you might not be able to produce actual property deeds, possession is nine-tenths of the law. You toiled and you labored, you chewed and you churned, and you took those autumn leaf tsunamis down to size year after year. Your homes were beautiful, deep, earthy smelling tunnels in hummus hued halls. The structure was amazing! The compost value sublime!
And then I struck. Never mind that my raised beds were languishing under the present administration's no new chemicals decree. So they were hungry. That's no excuse. I could have bought compost and left you alone. But no, I leaped over that wire with abandon, pausing only momentarily to unhook my trousers from the loose wire and flap my arms to keep from falling. I took that fork and I dug and I dug and I dug. I filled buckets to be carried to the starving beds. I filled the new bed we built high so our aging bodies won't have to bend to tend. Again and again I piled your wriggling screaming carcasses into my waiting receptacles along with your walls and furniture. If you've ever heard a worm scream, you'll know exactly what I mean.
Try to look at it this way. For those of you who survived, it's just a matter of relocation. Find your children and relatives, and start rebuilding. I won't be removing you again although you might have to dive for cover should I decide to speed up your process by tilling the earth. Your sacrifice will not go for naught. The tomatoes will laud you, the spuds will expound. You nitrogenous contribution will rival the beans and you'll sway to the roots of the asparagus crowd. Your star shall rise again, although you would probably prefer that the rest of you stays buried underground.
Sincerely, Ginger
I can't believe there is no public outcry in response to this open admittance of guilt on the part of Ginger Hallbeck, referring to the involulntary relocation of a vast number of our citizens. People, where are your values? (Blog followers--what aren't you reading?) Sincerely, anonomous Worm.
ReplyDelete