The month of worms

So it's been raining a lot lately, and when I say "a lot", I mean that it has rained thrice within the past week. It's also sort of warmish, so it is the season when the small invertebrates of our hemisphere start to reproduce like...small invertebrates.

I'm talking about the worms. After it rains, they crawl out from their soily hideouts underneath our lawns and lounge on the pavement until they get stomped on by students, run over by skateboards, or gobbled up by beasts larger than themselves. A mixture of emotions wells up inside of me when I see these pathetic little creatures. I feel disgust when I see a not-dead-yet worm inching front of me by way of peristalsis, the same method of smooth muscle contraction that moves food down our esophaguses (nature is gross, isn't it?). I feel pity that it has little or no control over its destiny. Who's to stop me from squelching the life out of it using nothing but my sneaker?

But there is also envy. Yes...a bit of envy that the little annelid is never going to have to experience things like a brain tumor, cold sores, or back pain. Nor will it have to experience anxiety from upcoming exams or decide what to wear tonight. If it has survived long enough to have children, it's job is done. It's selfish genes have been preserved for yet another generation.

It can eat dirt, act intoxicated, and no one tells it what to do. It can't get any lower. I think I may want to be a worm in my next life.