Worm Story Page 6

  Wilton couldn’t argue with that.

  He wanted to. He wanted to say, ‘no, I’m staying here in outer space to meet some worms’. But he didn’t. Algy was right. They had to help the others at home if they could.

  ‘I’ve been watching you,’ said Algy, squiz molecules shining. ‘Watching how brave you are. You don’t run away from killer fungus or insults or underpants. I’ve decided to try and be more like you. So come on, let’s go and warn the others.’

  Wilton tried to. But his body wouldn’t move. And it wasn’t worm regrets that were stopping him.

  ‘I’m stuck,’ said Wilton.

  His body was wedged tight under the fingernail.

  ‘I must have wriggled in too far,’ said Wilton.

  Algy rolled his exasperation molecules.

  ‘I’ll see if I can get you unwedged from the inside,’ he said, and disappeared.

  While Algy rummaged around inside him, Wilton peered wistfully up at the janet and tried to think of another way of cheering her up. He decided he’d even consider something that didn’t involve worms.

  But what?

  ‘Forget her,’ grumbled one of the bacteria. ‘How about cheering us up?’

  Wilton looked at the groaning stress-afflicted slightly squashed bacteria.

  ‘Have you tried telling each other jokes?’ he suggested.

  The bacteria looked unimpressed.

  ‘Jiff off,’ they said.

  Before Wilton could tell them what he thought of their lack of gratitude, a pain stabbed through his middle.

  ‘Ow,’ said Wilton. ‘That hurts.’

  ‘Are we still wedged?’ called Algy’s muffled voice from inside Wilton’s tummy. ‘I’m seeing if I can dislodge us by moving a few things around in here.’

  ‘We’re still wedged,’ said Wilton. ‘And make sure you put everything back where you found it.’

  To take his mind off what Algy might be doing, Wilton had another squiz up at the janet.

  Poor thing, he thought.

  She was still running and her fingernail and everyone under it were still jolting with each mighty step, so her sad face looked a bit blurred to Wilton’s bouncing squiz molecules. But that made it easier for him to imagine what her face might look like if she was happy.

  And what the valley at home might look like.

  Storm-free with sparkling healthy sludge.

  Suddenly Wilton had an idea to get him and Algy out from under the fingernail and started on their journey.

  ‘Tickle me,’ he yelled to Algy.

  ‘Eh?’ replied Algy’s muffled voice.

  ‘Like before,’ said Wilton. ‘Use anything lying around in there that’s furry.’

  Algy didn’t reply, but soon Wilton felt the familiar tickling.

  ‘No,’ he giggled. ‘More, more.’

  The bacteria looked at him sourly.

  ‘Alright for some harpies,’ said one of them. ‘Good-time fatso worms and their party parasites.’

  Wilton’s whole body writhed and twisted with the excruciating tickling.

  ‘Please,’ he giggled. ‘I can’t bear it. Don’t stop.’

  He flung himself from side to side.

  But it didn’t work. He was still wedged tight.

  ‘Sorry,’ called Algy’s muffled voice. ‘It’s a bit cluttered in here for tickling.’

  Before Wilton could urge him to try harder, nibbling some guts if necessary, the bacteria gave terrified yells.

  ‘Colgate! Palmolive! Look out!’

  Wilton peered around in alarm. And yelled himself.

  Their janet was heading straight for a huge mass of tangled tendrils. Strange thick crooked brown ones with huge green platforms sprouting from them.

  ‘It’s a jiffing tree,’ yelled one of the bacteria.

  ‘Domestos,’ screamed another. ‘Watch out for the branches.’

  ‘Watch out for the napisan leaves,’ screeched a third.

  Wilton saw that the janet was raising her fingers in front of her face. Including the finger he and Algy were on.

  ‘We’re going in,’ screamed Wilton.

  Something slapped him hard. Not the hysterical bacteria, something much bigger and greener.

  For a few moments his squiz molecules were in chaos.

  Then he saw he wasn’t under the fingernail any more, he was on one of the huge green platforms the bacteria had called leaves.

  He peered around, panicked. And saw the janet way over in the distance, not running now, just crouching and panting and rubbing her fingers.

  Slithering sludge, thought Wilton. We’re on another janet.

  He looked up.

  Towering above him was the biggest body he’d ever seen. It went so far up into outer space he couldn’t see where it ended. Sprouting from it were masses of the huge crooked brown tendrils, swaying gently. Attached to them were millions of the green platforms.

  Wilton started to wonder, dread molecules trembling, about what other creatures might live on this janet.

  ‘Shall I stop tickling now?’ called Algy’s muffled voice.

  ‘Yes,’ whispered Wilton.

  ‘Are we still under the fingernail?’ asked Algy’s voice.

  ‘No,’ whispered Wilton.

  ‘Hooray,’ yelled Algy’s voice. ‘That’s great.’

  ‘Not really,’ said Wilton.

  12

  ‘Brilliant,’ beamed Algy as he emerged from inside Wilton. ‘Free from that sludge-forsaken fingernail at last. Now we can get back home and tell the others about . . .’

  He trailed off as he took in the large green leaf platform he and Wilton were perched on.

  And the dark crooked branch tendrils all around them.

  And the impossibly tall rough-skinned body towering above them.

  ‘Slithering sludge,’ squeaked Algy. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘On another janet,’ said Wilton. ‘I tried to tell you but you were cheering too loudly.’

  ‘Is it a friendly janet?’ whispered Algy.

  ‘Don’t know,’ said Wilton.

  He squizzed around anxiously for signs of aggressive locals. Killer fungus or heavily armed enzymes or giant amoeba that could suck your insides out through your rear exit.

  He couldn’t see any so far.

  ‘Where’s our janet?’ asked Algy.

  ‘Over there,’ said Wilton, pointing with his tail.

  Their janet was just visible in the distance, sitting on the ground with her head in her tendrils. Wilton was pleased to see that the other janets, the jeering ones, didn’t seem to be around any more.

  Algy was peering up again at the towering body above them.

  ‘Wriggles,’ he said. ‘Do you think there’s any chance this janet’ll go over and say g’day to our janet so we can jump back on?’

  ‘Not a hope,’ said a deep voice.

  Wilton spun round so fast Algy almost fell off his shoulder.

  Approaching them across the leaf was a large yellow and orange striped worm.

  Wilton wasn’t sure whether to be delighted or scared.

  He felt Algy hurrying towards his rear end. But instead of disappearing inside, Algy stopped and glared at the yellow and orange worm.

  ‘That’s a very negative attitude,’ declared Algy.

  Oh no, thought Wilton. Don’t start being brave now, please.

  The yellow and orange worm frowned and made a threatening move towards Algy.

  ‘You looking for a fight?’ it growled.

  Algy disappeared inside. Then peeped out again.

  ‘What makes you so sure?’ he said.’What makes you so sure this janet won’t go visiting our janet, eh, stripey-bum?’

  Wilton tried to yell at Algy, but his chat molecules had all fainted.

  ‘I’ll do you,’ growled the yellow and orange worm, lunging at Algy.

  Algy disappeared.

  ‘You haven’t answered my question,’ called his muffled voice from inside Wilton.

  ‘Thi
s is a tree,’ growled the worm. ‘Trees don’t make social calls.’

  ‘How do you know?’ said Algy’s muffled voice. ‘They just might not tell you when they do.’

  ‘They’ve got roots,’ said the worm, glaring at Wilton’s stomach and flexing its powerful­-looking neck muscles. ‘Roots are fixed. They don’t move.’

  ‘Well that just shows how much you know,’ said Algy’s muffled voice. ‘Because this is outer space and everything moves in outer space, doesn’t it, Wriggles?’

  ‘Um,’ said Wilton. ‘I’m not really . . .’

  Part of him wanted to back Algy up, but a bigger part of him wanted Algy to shut up.

  ‘Just as well my best friend’s a worm, lolly-­features,’ yelled Algy’s muffled voice. ‘Otherwise, meeting you, I’d be thinking all worms are idiots.’

  ‘Algy,’ squeaked Wilton to his tummy. ‘Calm down.’

  He turned back to the yellow and orange worm.

  ‘Please forgive Algy,’ he said. ’We’ve been under a lot of stress lately. He didn’t mean to offend you.’

  The yellow and orange worm didn’t reply at first, just paused for a while, not moving. Then it flexed all its muscles.

  ‘I’m not offended,’ said the worm. ‘Mostly because I’m not a worm, I’m a caterpillar.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Wilton.

  Part of him was relieved and part of him was disappointed.

  ‘Lucky for your friend I’ve been doing an anger management course,’ added the caterpillar, nodding towards Wilton’s stomach. ‘Otherwise I’d take that cheeky little microbe apart molecule by molecule.’

  ‘Is that right?’ yelled Algy’s muffled voice. ‘Well why don’t you come and get me then?’

  ‘Algy,’ said Wilton. ‘Be quiet.’

  He was relieved to see the caterpillar looking a tiny bit amused.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Wilton to the caterpillar.

  ‘Internal parasites are all a bit mental,’ said the caterpillar. ‘They don’t get out enough.’

  Wilton’s smile molecules were tingling. He liked this bloke.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not a worm?’ he asked. ‘Cause I’m a worm and I’ve been really hoping to meet some other worms.’

  ‘Sorry, mate, can’t help you,’ said the caterpillar.

  ‘We could be related,’ said Wilton hopefully. ‘I mean we both wriggle. And we’re both very patient with dopey microbes. We could be distant cousins.’

  The caterpillar wasn’t looking even a tiny bit amused now.

  ‘I don’t think we are,’ it said. ‘I live on trees and eat leaves, you crawl out of the bottoms of fat mammals.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Wilton, disappointed. He wasn’t sure what a mammal was, but he guessed it must be another name for a janet.

  Suddenly he felt an indignant movement inside his tummy. It wasn’t his molecules, it was Algy.

  ‘Trees and leaves, eh?’ yelled Algy’s muffled voice. ‘So you’re a parasite too, veggie-bum.’

  ‘We’re all parasites,’ said the caterpillar, glowering. ‘Surely you know that?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Wilton hurriedly. ‘Yes, we do.’

  He didn’t dwell on the thought for long, because the caterpillar was frowning again. It looked like it had decided to go in and get Algy after all. Either that or it was listening to something.

  Wilton hoped it was the second of these. He could hear strange noises but he couldn’t see where they were coming from.

  ‘Look,’ said the caterpillar, ‘if you want to meet some relatives, you’ll find some on that bloke down there.’

  Wilton peered down. And saw an amazing sight.

  Jumping and panting and rolling and snuffling around the base of the tree was another janet. This janet was only a fraction of the size of Wilton’s janet, and it was covered in thick dark curly plasma strands.

  ‘It’s called a dog,’ said the caterpillar. ‘Loads of your lot on that fella.’

  Wilton stared down, fascinated.

  The dog was frolicking as happily as an enzyme on healthy sludge.

  ‘You could roll off here and drop down onto him easy as leaf pie,’ said the caterpillar.

  ‘I could,’ said Wilton.

  It was very tempting.

  Wilton thought about what it would be like to meet real worms for the first time in his life. Other folk who looked like him and had the same thoughts and feelings and ticklish bits as him.

  Then he remembered that he and Algy were meant to be getting back to their janet so they could tell everyone at home about the stress.

  Wilton thought about what it would be like to go back home, where he’d still be the odd one out and where everyone would probably still call him fatso.

  Maybe, he thought, we could put off going back home just for a little while.

  ‘If you roll off my leaf pretty soon,’ said the caterpillar, moving closer to Wilton and flexing his big muscles again, ‘I won’t have to pull your friend’s insides out through your rear exit.’

  ‘Good point,’ said Wilton. ‘Thanks.’

  He rolled off the leaf.

  13

  Wilton had never fallen onto a dog before.

  As he fell he hoped that the surface of the dog, with its covering of thick dark curly plasma strands, would be soft.

  It wasn’t.

  Up close the plasma strands were almost as wide as Wilton. They were also coarse and rough. Wilton crashed through them and landed on the surface with an Algy-jarring thud.

  ‘Ouch,’ said Algy’s muffled voice. ‘What was that?’

  ‘Nothing to worry about,’ said Wilton to his tummy.

  ‘Let me know if stripey-bum’s pushing you around,’ said Algy’s muffled voice. ‘Say the word and I’ll be straight out to help. Just as soon as I’ve finished lunch.’

  ‘I will,’ replied Wilton. ‘Thanks. I’m fine.’

  He felt guilty about not being completely honest with Algy, but he just didn’t feel ready yet to break the news about them being on a dog.

  Probably best if I explore a bit first, thought Wilton. Then, once I’ve got the lie of the land, I can show Algy around and he won’t feel quite so shocked about being on a new janet. Particularly when I explain to him how close he came to being caterpillar sandwich spread.

  Wilton headed off to look for worms.

  It was hard going. The dog’s plasma strands were a thick forest that covered its whole surface. They were so close together that Wilton had to struggle sometimes to wriggle between them.

  And the dog never stopped moving. If it wasn’t jumping or running, it was darting or lurching. One time it shook itself and Wilton had to wedge himself between a couple of plasma strands so he wouldn’t be shaken off.

  Phew, he thought when the shaking had stopped. Thank sludge I’m plump.

  Then there were the microbes.

  They were everywhere, clinging to the forest canopy and glaring down at Wilton.

  ‘G’day,’ said Wilton. ‘Nice dog you’ve got here.’

  ‘Woof,’ said the microbes.

  ‘I’m actually hoping to meet some worms,’ said Wilton. ‘I don’t suppose you can point me in the right direction?’

  ‘Woof,’ said the microbes.

  Wilton decided not to push it. Some of the feeling they wouldn’t mind having a chew on his molecules.

  ‘Everything OK out there?’ called Algy’s muffled voice. ‘If veggie-bum’s getting difficult, just say the word.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ replied Wilton.

  ‘I can tickle you if you need me to,’ said Algy. ‘You know, flip us off the leaf.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Wilton, ‘but I’m fine.’

  As it turned out, the worms found Wilton.

  He was just starting to wonder if he was going round in circles. The dog forest all looked the same and so did the dog microbes. Then he heard a slithering and a wriggling.

  Wilton knew it wasn’t him making the sound because he’d stopped wriggling to
try and work out where exactly on the dog he was, and to try and pluck up the courage to break the news to Algy.

  He turned round.

  And saw, wriggling towards him through the forest, a group of worms.

  Wilton’s molecules buzzed with happiness and excitement.

  The worms looked just like him. And, he saw with an extra surge of delight, they had squiz molecules and food tubes, so they weren’t noodles.

  ‘G’day,’ said Wilton.

  He waited, hope molecules frozen, to see if the worms spoke like him too. Delighted as he was to see them, it would be a disappointment if all they could say was ‘woof’.

  ‘G’day,’ said the worms, wagging their tails.

  Wilton glowed.

  ‘I’m Wilton,’ he said.

  ‘Wow,’ said one of the worms. ‘It’s true. A visitor.’

  ‘We love visitors,’ said another worm. ‘Though most of the ones we get around here are fleas.’

  ‘Where are you from?’ asked a third worm.

  Wilton peered out through the forest. In the distance he could just make out his janet, still sitting sadly by herself.

  ‘That janet over there,’ he said.

  The worms all looked.

  ‘Poor kid,’ said one. ‘She looks like she needs cheering up.’

  Wilton forced himself not to think about it. Not now, not while his dream was coming true at last.

  ‘I’m so pleased to meet you,’ he said to the worms. ‘What’s it like living here?’

  ‘Great,’ said one. ‘We have heaps of fun. We visit drains and garbage bins and everywhere. This morning we were thrown out of a supermarket. We don’t have an owner so we can do anything we want.’

  Wilton didn’t understand all the details, but the general picture sounded wonderful.

  ‘Hey,’ said one of the worms. ‘Do you want to come and see our footy pitch? It wags.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ said Wilton happily.

  Wilton’s new friends showed him all over the dog, and Wilton was interested to see how similar it was to his janet, apart from the fur and the tail.

  The worms showed Wilton how to wriggle out of the way when the dog licked its own bottom. Wilton was grateful, and amazed. He wondered if his own janet could do that.

  The worms also showed him how to crawl out onto the dog’s dangly bits and hang on for dear life when the dog shook itself. Once Wilton got used to the feeling of having his molecules scrambled, he enjoyed it.