Wilkie’s farm had a unique architectural feature: from time to time the top and middle trays literally swapped places. He quickly learnt how to contend with such inconveniences by always making sure to be on the top tray during the swap. Because if not he’d be taken away with all the poo in the middle tray and spread into a cruel world, where, while his poo was very much sought after, life for a little compost worm was actually quite treacherous.
It must be said: Wilkie wasn’t able to be ‘one with nature’ as other free-roaming earthworms – he wasn’t that species of worm. As we know, Wilkie was a species of compost worm and such hungry little eaters would starve outside if not for the plentiful supply of food pouring over them from the humans. Compost worms are spoilt, really. And so they should be with such magnificent poo!
Still, there were advantages: the threat of birds pecking Wilkie out of the ground wasn’t an issue as it was for those poor worms in the park; nor need he contend with the bitter repulsive taste of yucky poisonous chemicals sprayed over the fields of worms on agricultural farms.
Wilkie soon figured out what was going on with the tray swapping business. He worked out he was part of a cycle – part of a production plant where his farm’s poo was being distributed externally to make new life. Enthused by this latest revelation, Wilkie used all his might and influence to rally the worms.
Our unassuming little superhero with the magnificent poo – surged on by the aching scar around his body – squirmed atop an eggshell and against an apple core as a lectern, roused all his siblings in the farm with a most eloquent and inspiring speech.
He spoke of what the worm gods told him, of the magical life-giving powers they possessed with their poo. He spoke of his vision for everyone to give as much life to the world as they could. He moved a motion there and then to work as hard as he’d ever worked on this most important task, and for all the worms in the farm to make as much magnificent poo as their little bodies could muster.
There was no denying the worms acknowledged a part in their cycle of life. And every one of them – man, woman, child and hermaphrodite – voted unanimously to support Wilkie’s cause. How could they not?
Within a short period the amount of poo produced literally went through the roof. Growths and commodities were up. Stocks and shares reached record prices. From far and wide speculators speculated and investors invested. It made the news!
The storeys of the farm were swapped in such dizzying rotation that the busy little worms didn’t know if they were coming or going. One time Bert thought he was Betty and Betty thought she was Bert but that particular worm realised it was both.
From that little corner of existence Wilkie our superhero was having a phenomenal impact on the world. What an industrious little farm! What an industrious little worm!
Oh the poo! It was resplendent with all the nutrition a growing garden could possibly need. Plants were harvested of the tastiest food, eaten by the most appreciative humans, who, as it turned out, were providing the most beautiful food scraps for the diligent little worms. Humans and worms were working together to create a beautiful cycle of life.
Wilkie became a fertility hero. He turned barren lands abundant, ploughed dirt into soil, rendered dust to humus. Planet Earth depends on worms like Wilkie probably more than even he was aware.
The worm gods had treated Wilkie well. He’d become quite a celebrity. But while humbled by his fame he never forgot about the hard work which got him there. Gosh his poo was magnificent! The working relationship he’d forged with the humans finally seemed to be paying dividends for the world.
Believe it or not though, Wilkie had broader horizons over which to poo. He also had a few personal goals of his own too.