Yesterday I was digging up dandelions and one does bring up the occasional earthworm -- or, unfortunately, half an earthworm.
Musing on the myth that both ends of a cut-in-two worm will each grow a new worm, I was pondering about what that's like for the worm -- an insanely sharp thing that plunges in from above, divides it in twain, hauls both halves into the light and leaves 'em to make their way back into the newly-turned earth:
One Day On The Outskirts Of An Earthworm Village--
A very beat-up worm crawls into town. Half of him is shiny new and he looks haggard and drawn, as if recovering from an illness on short rations. He sees another worm limping into town and calls out, "Dude! Dude, you would never believe it! This-- This thing came down outta nowhere, above the top of the world, hacked me into two, threw me through the air, and I've been three days recovering and regrowing!"
By now the other worm has gotten close, and replies, "Whoa! Man, the exact same thing happened to me! And it was three days ago, too!"
They come closer and each gets a clear look at at the other.
"Dude, you look...familiar..."
"Man, I was gonna say that. You look...just....like...OMG...me!!!!"
And they both turn and crawl away from each other as fast at they can.
T. R. MCELROY'S STREAMLINED TELEGRAPH KEYS
1 year ago