The Legend of the Worm and the Valley

There once lived a worm who wandered the world. And in those days it came to pass that the worm did find a gentle valley between two hills. And the worm said, "Behold! To crawl between these two hills is wondrous pleasant. For soft is the Earth, gentle the damp breeze from the north, and right tall and pleasing of shape are these twin mounds." And the worm did smile in his heart, for true were his words. And the valley did beseech the worm, "Oh, that thou wouldst abide in me these many months, to the end of the year, and beyond the ending of the present age." "That, uh… sounds like one hell of a commitment," spake the worm, which did begin to tremble and sweat, for he was sore afraid. "Behold, vile worm," saith the valley. "For you are like unto the seller of pre-owned automobiles, who is kind and ingratiating with honeyed words before he maketh the sale. And then when you sign on the dotted line and your car breaks down a week later, does Mr Salesman answer his phone? I don't think so!" "You haveth me all wrong," spake the worm with honeyed tongue. "And thou art like unto the purveyor of an online streaming service, who offerest thou a 30-day free trial but for some reason asketh for thy credit card information in order to sign up for said free trial. I am but a world-wandering worm, and behold! If I did not wander I would be only a worm." "Fine," the valley did vouch, "Fine, just go wander the world if thou wantest to, see if I care. Which I don't." And the valley did sigh, after the manner of one who sighs. But the worm, whose heart was softened, verily as butter which is put in the microwave and heated just enough to where you can cut it with a knife but not so much that it melts and isn't any good for spreading its softened, did say, "Heck, I dunno. I guess maybe I could stick around a couple days and crawl between thy delectable hills. For thou art the best valley I do know, not at all like those other valleys." "Damn right," said the valley. "For those other valleys are as labyrinthine labyrinths, which do trap and ensnare with misdirections and sudden changes, like unto when a man drives along a road and all of the sudden he realizes he's in a Right Turn Only lane and has to turn right even though he wanted to go straight. But thou art like unto a thoroughfare with clear signage and visual design that alloweth a worm to navigate to where he wants to go." "Ugh," said the valley. "Just, just go. For thou, oh mobile worm, art all like, 'Oh, look at me, I'm so special and have so many places to be!' Go then, go, if thou beest so clever. Go and wriggle thy way to thine other valleys. Get thee hence, and trouble me no longer." "Well, uh…" "And another thing. Don't thou crawleth around thinking my mailbox does not explode with missives from other worms. Special thou art not. I mean, just today I got a letter from a bigger, stronger worm than you: 'Oh, look and see this fish I caught while I was on the hook. No big deal though, just worm stuff…'" "Erm…" "And another one: 'Check out all this gold and all these jewels I did gather after I did slay the vicious Dragon of Timbuktu. Hashtag shiny hashtag wrigglegang.'" "Well…" "And how about just one more, if thou art not too busy with thy need to wander: 'Ayy yo girl I know I ain't hit you up in a minute but I just got back in the hood and thought I'd holla at ya. I know you ain't forgot how we used to–'" "Eek!" the worm did shriek. "Hmm…?" hummed the valley. "I, uh…" the worm spake, scratching his head with his tail (or his tail with his head), "I, uh, just realized it's super hot today. Hot enough that one may prepare a meal of flapjacks, bacon, and eggs upon the sidewalk, and in such manner break one's fast without so much as going indoors to procure the devices of cookery. So maybe I could…" "Couldst thou speak up, thou suddenly seemest to mumble…" "Thinkest thou maybe I could stick around a while, oh most lush, fertile, and sweetest of all valleys?" "Eh, let me think about it," said the valley. "Oh, please let me stay! Thou beest the only valley for me. I love thee, I love thee more than I love mine own head! (Or is it mine tail?)" "Hmm…" hummed the valley. "Okay, but be thou a good little worm and make not a mess with thy wriggling." And behold! The sun did set, and the sun did rise. The worm did remain in the valley for many a day. And the worm did crawl north and south between the two hills till he started sneezing, at which point he stopped. And the valley did make flapjacks, bacon, and eggs in the mornings while the worm told tales of adventure and derring-do from good wide wanderings. (Which stories were one hundred percent accurate and not exaggerated, embellished, or dramatized in the slightest.) And for many a day, verily, for many a year the worm and the valley did abide happily together. And they did produce some vorms and walleys together, which did raise their monthly living expenses such that the worm did seek employment as a purveyor of pre-owned automobiles and the valley did begin work with a company that did sell online streaming services. Which satisfied the innate dominating instinct of the worm not at all, and which satisfied the innate nurturing instinct of the valley not at all. So when they saw each other at the end of the day they were both exhausted and barely had the energy to be civil with one another, let alone kind and loving and playful as they had imagined in their long lost youth, and had in fact actually been when they'd first begun to love one another. Plus the vorms and walleys had to go to state-mandated indoctrination facilities, which only warped their instincts and made it pretty much impossible for the worm or the valley to have meaningful contact, or even influence, in their own children's lives. And neither the worm nor the valley were happy with the situation, but they lived with it because well that's life and what else did they have to do? But once in a while they might think of one another fondly and remember how it used to be back before things got to be the way they were now. And they'd almost wish they had the strength and goodwill to find their way back to the way things used to be, or at least not hurt one another in large and small ways. Mostly out of spite and frustration and indirect self-torture and because it was easier than changing things or even convincing themselves it would be worthwhile to change things. And of course they both thought about divorce but it was too late for that, might as well just wait things out and hope to last long enough to pretend to be sad at the other's funeral. The sun rose and the sun set. The worm got all nasty and dried out and wrinkly, and the years of rain and wind erosion seriously undermined the aesthetic effect of the valley with its hills. The vorms and walleys grew up, moved out, started families of their own, and experienced their own share of happiness and unhappiness. And even though they came back for family get togethers they didn't call as often as the worm or valley would like. And even when they did there was a shadow over everything, a little unspoken resentment where the worm or the valley could tell the kids were acting out of a sense of obligation and not because they really wanted to. Which was both sad and maddening for all parties concerned, but as long as they didn't address it directly and put on a big smile for one another they could pretend it wasn't really happening. It's only life, there's no point expecting to be happy and fulfilled because you'll just end up disappointed. And anyway, they'd all gotten so used to letting others make them do things they resented that they didn't know any other way to be. No point making the effort now, it's too late and anyway who do you think you are, you're just a worm, just a valley. Probably the high point of this period came when the vorms and walleys had kids of their own. Because the pleasure of having grandchildren is that you get to dote on them and spoil them the way you couldn't with your own kids because you were struggling to make ends meet at the time and (more importantly) you'd have to deal with the consequences. Plus it was a way of taking revenge on your kids for only being what they were and not what you wished they were. "I'll spoil the grandkids and make you deal with the fallout," the valley thought in her heart. But she didn't say it, because you don't say things like that. Then the worm died. And the valley mourned, partly because she found to her surprise that she was actually saddened by the loss. But mostly because it gave her a new role to play in life and it's easier to play roles than it is to force a meaning onto the ordered chaotic round of existence. Time passes, forms come into being, forms melt away, and such is the way of the world. Nothing remains, but nothing is lost. Then the valley died too, so that was that. The sun rose and the sun set.