I’m guessing it’s about time to talk about my worms, ya know the ones you hear have run away?
Red Wigglers. Eisenia fetida. I think they were called, to give you both the Latin name and the common name for my worms. I picked up the worms by accident in some mushroom compost I purchased back in 2002. And so I became the proud parent of a red wiggling mass of worms by accident. It was idyllic, like so many parenthood’s begin…
Now, if you aren’t familiar with mushroom compost, you may not be a gardener. I suppose that’s ok, although it would be a little strange here in the Midwest. Most everybody has at least a little garden here in the Midwest, folks will look at you strange it there’s not a little plot out back full of weeds, (hopefully not too many,) and vegetables in more plentiful amounts.
I mean if you don’t grow your own vegetables or herbs, that’s ok by me, I don’t raise my own beef or pork. I’m not a chicken daddy either, in case you wondered. I’m free of drama raising llamas too, in case you happened to be curious. Enquiring minds… Right?
I figured it’s best to start low on the evolutionary tree with pets, since it’s really not nice to experiment on higher life forms. I do have a bit of the mad scientist look about me, or so I am told. And I really do mean that, it pains me to hear about animal testing for cosmetics, for instance. Yes I eat meat from animals both big and small, and that’s about sustenance.
I’m a Meatasauris Rex, or so I’m told. To be quite honest, I do enjoy eating animals, I like meatballs with my spaghetti, and chicken in my salad. I used to eat read meat nearly every day. Of course, if you were wondering, I have seven stents in my heart too. I’m guessing those all go together like shit and stink…
I don’t want you to think the worms were the only household pets living in the old manse, because there was a rabbit too. It was my second wife’s rabbit (Bobbi-Sue if you don’t have a scorecard for ex-wife bingo), a pet rabbit that was kept indoors at all times. I liked feeding the rabbit’s poop to my worms, and it seemed to be a nice food for my red wigglers too. I really enjoyed that synergy, it seems a good way to assure the rabbit poop was used and useful.
Every dog I’ve ever had left my yard in shambles. Dog poop landmines everywhere, accompanied by brown burnt sections of lawn where he choose to urinate. My grass always seemed to love the poop but hate the urine, leading to wildly uneven growth patterns for the grass. Yippie-aye-ki-yay motherfuckers on that one, I already despise doing yardwork, and turning the whole process into a literal shit-show is never going to help.
So I felt confident that worms were more my speed, I figured they’d be easier than a dog, both on my yard and my own psyche.
I never thought that my worms would up and run away…
