TALES FROM WORMY WOMP-PILE
The Worm and the Thread
Courage
The Worm and the Thread
Courage
You may be wondering, "What is a womp-pile?" and you would be wise indeed to ask such a question. If you were to ask that question of Willie and his friends, they would tell you that a Womp-pile is a grand villa surrounded by tall green trees and golden lakes. But since it was me who you asked; I will have to tell you that a Womp-pile is what a cow leaves behind in a cow pasture in her daily chore of nibbling grass.
"One man's mansion is another man's cow-patty," as they say.
Now it should be known that worms are very industrious animals, not a bit like the snail and the slug who sun themselves on rocks and perch on leaves in order to watch Willie and the worms of Wormy Womp-pile work away. Oh no; Willie and the worms work very hard each day digging holes in the ground searching for tasty roots and expanding their housing development for future worms of Wormy Womp-pile.
Worms, you see, are complacent creatures, content to dig and eat, and play ring-around-the-rosy in their cozy womp-pile.
But Willie was a different sort of worm. He was not much like the other worms with whom he worked and wandered. No; Willie had a curious streak located right where his heart would have been, if worms had a heart.
Willie was not like the other worms, and the other worms of Wormy Womp-pile knew it, and wondered mightily about Willie Worm's wisdom.
And what stirred Willie's curiosity-spot that lay right where his heart would be, if worms had a heart; was a single golden thread that hangs from the sky; Right in the middle of Wormy Womp-pile it hangs. Day after day after day the thread hangs, suspended from nothing at all but the sky above.
"Don't go near that thread!" every-worm warned Willie. "It's there to tempt and tease us worms of Wormy Womp-pile," they warned Willie. Over and over, and many times the worms warned Willie to stay away from the golden thread that hangs from nothing, and goes nowhere at all.
And Willie listened. Usually.
But today is a different day than all the different days that had gone on before. Today Willie is finding himself irresistibly drawn to the golden thread that hangs from nowhere and is suspended from nothing but the sky above. Yes; today is a different day indeed.
"Don't go near the thread!" all the worms warned Willie as they witnessed the look that was in the place where Willie's eyes would be, if worms had eyes. "We see that look in the place your eyes would be, if worms had eyes. We can see how you are being irresistibly drawn to that golden thread that hangs from nothing and goes to no place at all."
But it was plain to see that Willie wasn't listening; even if worms had ears with which to listen. He just continued to stare; if worms had eyes with which to stare, at the golden thread that hangs from nothing at all.
"Legend has it," Wanda Worm whispered from a safe distance from the golden thread that hangs from nothing at all, "that other worms have been irresistibly drawn to the golden thread, and have disappeared, never to be seen again by any worm, even if worms had eyes with which to see."
Now all the worms of Wormy Womp-pile knew that if there was any-worm that could dissuade Willie Worm from the madness he was obviously considering; it was Wanda Worm. Wanda Worm was the "Worm's Worm," and had curves in all the right places; many, many, many of them.
And every-worm knew that Willie had eyes for Wanda; if worms had eyes with which to have for Wanda Worm.
Willie Worm turned what would have been his head, if worms had a head, away from the golden thread and focused his attention on Wanda Worm. What self-respecting worm wouldn't have done the same?
All the worms of Wormy Womp-pile gave a tremendous sigh of relief; if worms had lungs with which to....; oh, but you know what I'm going to say without my saying it.
But Willie Worm's attention had only been averted for a moment, and was once again irresistibly drawn back to the irresistible golden thread that hangs from nothing at all.
"Willie Worm, it is insanity that is causing you to be irresistibly drawn to that golden thread," Dr. Wormwood, the Head Doctor of headdoctor's expounded. (It must be explained that Doctors do not just say things like you and me; they expound, or perform some other ritual that we lesser mortals do not understand or appreciate.) "It is plain as the nose on your face, if you had a nose, or a face with which to have a nose on, that you are suffering from a broken sibling; and it is imperative that you consult me at your earliest convenience. Here is my card."
But Doctor Wormwood's expert counsel went unheeded, for Willie Worm's interest in the golden thread had not abated; no, not even for a moment.
It was clear to all that someone with more influence and authority was needed to divert this wayward worm from his reckless ways.
So in response to such a crises as this, the Reverend Mister Blackworm stepped forward; his concordance and lexicon in his hand, if worms had hands.
"Doctrines, dogmas, theologies and eschatologies are all in agreement, my son, indicating that what you are contemplating is ridiculous, dangerous, foolhardy, and just downright sinful. And therefore I must insist that you turn away from this insidious madness immediately, and let us lay hands on you, that is if we had hands, and pray for the redemption of your contemptible soul."
Such an impassioned plea could not possibly go unheeded.
And it did not.
Willie Worm stepped up to the golden thread, figuratively speaking, that hangs from nothing and goes nowhere at all, and gave it a tug in order to assure its ability to hold his weight. Worms, you see, are not without faith, but they also test their situation to insure that it is up to the challenge.
All the worms of Wormy Womp-pile heaved a gasp in unison, Then, with bated breath, they all stared as if they had eyes with which to stare at the pudgy worm before them as he slowly began his climb up the golden thread that hangs from nothing and goes to nowhere at all.
"He'll never make it," said Wilfred Worm, willfully."
"The thread will break, sure as all get-out," retorted Windle Worm, rhetorically.
"Whatever may be the outcome of this exhilarating experience, it will make wondrous material for a poem," soliloquized Waldo Emerson Worm, woefully.
And while there was much ado and speculation as to the outcome of this extraordinary event, rapt attention never once left Willie Worm as he continued his climb, and that slowly for sure, up the golden thread that hangs from nothing and goes to nowhere at all.
And to be sure, there was not a worm amongst them who could not claim to have had a worm's eye view of this historical event, that is if worms had eyes with which to behold such an event.
While Willie Worm climbed the golden thread, speculation of every sort was discussed amongst the observers at the bottom of the thread that hangs from nothing and goes nowhere at all. Every conceivable failure was considered, with not a single worm amongst them that exhibited the slightest confidence in the success, whatever that might be, of Willie Worm's heroic exploit.
"Look!" exclaimed Wanda Worm excitedly. "Willie has disappeared into nowhere at all!"
All eyes, figuratively speaking, searched the skies above them trying for but a glimpse of the tail end of Willie Worm. But there was not a sign or a shadow of a worm to be seen.
"The sky has swallowed him up, just like I said it would," speculated Wutherton-Whimbey Worm, grandiosely.
"No it didn't," retorted Walton Worm rhetorically, "he fell off the thread. I saw him with my own two eyes, if I had eyes with which to see."
Speculation over Willie Worm's fate ran rampant amongst the witnessing worms of Wormy Womp-pile, with no two speculators speculating the same speculation.
* * *
"I have reached the top of the golden thread," Willie Worm appraised, "and I can go no further. And it appears that what every-worm was telling me is totally true; there is indeed nothing at all at the end of the golden thread that hangs from nothing at all."
As Willie Worm clung to the top of the golden thread that hangs from nothing at all, he surveyed the sky above him as well as the earth below.
"The sky above is so magnificent and so clear," Willie Worm said wistfully to no one at all. "And everything below looks so small and insignificant from way up here, where it all seemed so big and important from way down there. But I suppose now that I have reached the top of the golden thread that truly hangs from nothing and goes nowhere at all; the only alternative left for me is to turn around and go back down since I've reached the end of my thread."
While Willie Worm considered such tactics, a hand reached down from out of nowhere at all, far above the golden thread that hangs from nothing and goes to nowhere at all, cradled Willie gently in the palm of the hand, then carried Willie high above the thread that hangs from nothing and goes nowhere at all.
"I was beginning to believe that no one from Wormy Womp-pile would ever accept the challenge of the golden thread," the voice attached to the hand that cradled Willie Worm surmised.
"Such a wonderful place this is," Willie Worm rhapsodized as he surveyed all that lay before him as he rested in the palm of the hand that cradled him. "Does all this belong to you, Sir?"
"Yes, it does, Willie, and now it belongs to you as well."
"To me? But I am but a worm. How could I possibly be of any use in such a magnificent place as this. If it were that I was a man like you, Sir..."
"And that you will be, my son. For all who hear my voice, and have the courage to climb the golden thread as you have this day, are rewarded with a body such as mine. Here, I will sit you on this throne and in a moment you will be as I am."
"Sir, that truly is a wonderful gift indeed, and more than I could ever wish or hope for; but, Sir, could I first go back down the golden thread to Wormy Womp-pile and tell the other worms about the thread that hangs from nothing and goes to nowhere at all? Can I let them know that the golden thread does go to somewhere wonderful and beautiful, and that they, too, can have a body such as you have?"
"It will not change their minds, my son. They have their own stories and faerie tales they would rather believe than anything you or I might tell them. But if you wish, you may return and try as you will."
So once again Willie Worm journeyed down the golden thread that hangs from nothing and goes to nowhere at all, happily carrying a message of greatest importance to those he cared for most on earth; the worms of Wormy Womp-pile.
* * *
"It's foolishness. We all know you didn't really climb that thread."
"It was a magic trick. I've seen it done with ropes and snakes and things like that before."
"It was hypnotism, just like I always said it was."
"Besides, anybody could climb that old thread. I could do it easily, if I wanted too."
"Sure, me too, just like I always said."
"It's madness, just as I warned you. But it's not too late. Here is my card."
"Just like I told you, my son, stay away from that golden thread. It's evil and will bring you delusions and lead you astray. Let us lay hands on you and...."
"No, no! You have it all wrong! You have to listen to me!" Willie Worm cried to those of Wormy Womp-pile. "It's wonderful up there. And all you have to do is believe it enough to climb the thread. You don't have to stay a worm. You can be men and women! You can have eyes to see, and ears to hear. You can even have a heart with which to love and care for others. You don't have to remain worms here in Wormy Womp-pile. All you have to do is believe, and climb!"
But the worms of Wormy Womp-pile did not listen to Willie Worm, just as he had been told by the Man at the end of the golden thread that hangs from nothing and goes to somewhere wonderful indeed. For as worms are inclined to be; they had no ears to hear, nor eyes to see.
So Willie Worm again climbed the Golden thread, this time without fanfare, and with a downcast spot that would have been, and soon will be his heart, for those he cared for most on earth; but must leave behind in the little Womp-pile in the middle of the cow pasture where cows carry on their daily chores and continue to nibble grass.
Tumbleweed
[This story Inspired by Psalms 22:6; Job 25:6; Isa 41:14; Matt 7:14; 13:15-16: 19:28,29; 1Tim 4:6-7]
