Wormzilla

by Anna Bendiksen

One brisk morning, Louisa Prendergast awoke in a foul mood. It was a Wednesday, and that meant etiquette class after school at L’Ecole de la Culture Francaise. Louisa lay in bed for fifteen minutes trying to think of a way out. Having failed, she put on her slippers, stomped downstairs to the kitchen, and slumped in her chair. Mrs. Prendergast pretended not to notice.

“Good morning, Louisa!” she sang out. “Would you like some spinach frittata?”

The responses that popped into Louisa’s head contained inappropriate words. Louisa said nothing and stared at the table.

“Are you looking forward to etiquette class?” asked her mother.

Louisa stuck out her tongue.

“Charming,” said Mr. Prendergast. “Remind me again how much we’re paying for these etiquette lessons?”

“Two thousand dollars a semester,” said his wife, “and Louisa, it would be nice to see some return on the investment one of these days.”

“Um, I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

“Exactly,” said Mrs. Prendergast. “Eat your breakfast, take your vitamin, and go get dressed.”

Louisa ate breakfast and faked swallowing the vitamin, which she hid in her pocket. She muttered more inappropriate words on the way upstairs and slammed the door to her room. She took her little worm farm (maximum capacity, twenty earthworms) down from its shelf, placed it on the floor, opened the hatch, and sat there peering at the worms. They slithered about, oblivious to her problems. Taking the vitamin out of her pocket, she dropped it in to see what would happen. The worms nudged it.

“Louisa,” said a voice outside her door, “are you getting dressed?”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK???” yelled Louisa, jumping up, rummaging through her closet, and pulling on an outfit. As she left, a worm, its nose smeared with vitamin dust, poked through the open hatch. Perceiving that the delights of freedom were there for the asking, it wiggled first in this direction, then in that, then slid across the pink-and-green rug. Soon another followed.

***

“And that is why we should only buy all-natural foods,” droned Madeleine, standing in front of class 4V. Louisa clapped dutifully with the others as she came back to her seat.

Madeleine, who was wearing an ivy-green sweater set, hissed to Louisa, “See? That’s how it’s done.”

“That’s how what’s done?”

“The writing prompt, idiot. Didn’t you do it?”

“And now I think the only person left is Louisa,” said Mr. Valli, smiling. “Louisa, would you come up here, please?”

“Um---“

“Come on…”

“Um---I can’t.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

“Um---“

“Look!” cried Madeleine. She was pointing to something outside. An enormous worm, as big as an oak tree, was weaving back and forth outside the windows. Suddenly it began tapping on one of them. Tap tap, tap tap.

“Okay, everybody remain calm!” said Mr. Valli. CRASH! The window shattered, scattering glass on the floor. The giant worm poked its head into the room as if to say, how’s it going in here?

The class screamed. Jim Mikkelson, who had drawn chicken pox on himself in order to miss the Presidential Fitness Test, was off like a shot. The rest of class 4V tripped over each another on the way out. Mr. Valli was forced out by the worm, which left a trail of slime as it slid down the hall. Occasionally it would glide to a stop and raise its head as it examined a display of student work, then nod and continue on its way.

“May I have your attention, please,” boomed the loudspeaker. “A giant earthworm has been sighted near Woodburn Elementary. Please remain in your classrooms and await further instructions. Do not leave your classrooms. Repeat: do not leave your classrooms.”

Woodburn Elementary, of course, was doing the opposite. “Let’s hide in the girls’ bathroom!” shouted Madeleine amid the pandemonium.

“What, and wait to get eaten?” Louisa shouted back. “No way.”

Somehow they made it to the playground. The worm was nowhere to be seen. In the throng of kids, Madeleine dialed her cell phone.

“Hello, Mom?... Yes, I know, but this IS an emergency… Mom, there’s an enormous worm, like, attacking the school and I do not feel safe!”

BANG! One of the front doors burst open and the worm slid out, pausing to give a bow as it passed the flagpole. It lifted its head before the crowd, then slithered off under the play structure, across the soccer field, and into the woods.

“I want my mommy!” wailed a preschooler.

“Join the club, kid,” said Mr. Valli. “Okay, everybody from 4V come stand over here!”

Soon cars began pulling up. “Louisa!” said Mrs. Prendergast. “Thank you very much, Mr. Valli, I’ll take it from here. Louisa, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, and Mom, drive the long way home, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because the worm went in that direction and I want to see it again. It was so cool, Mom! You have never in your life seen anything like this!”

“Shhhh,” said Mrs. Prendergast, turning up the radio.

“We interrupt this program for an important announcement. The Connecticut Department of Emergency Management and Homeland Security is monitoring a developing situation in Fairfield County, where twenty giant earthworms have been spotted in the last hour.”

“You mean there’s more?” shouted Louisa. “Sweet!”

“Residents are advised to seek shelter immediately. For more information, please visit our website at www.ct.gov/ worms.”

Mrs. Prendergast made a face and reached into the glove compartment, making the car swerve. “Hand sanitizer,” she said, tossing it back to Louisa. Louisa ignored this. Then they saw police cars ahead, lights flashing. An officer motioned to them; Mrs. Prendergast rolled down her window.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to turn around?”

“Turn around? But we live on this street!”

“This is an emergency, ma’am. We’re cordoning off the area.”

“Is it worms?” said Louisa. “Are you shooting giant worms?”

“Not shooting, hon,” said the police officer. “Pesticide.”

“You are not putting pesticide anywhere near our property,” snapped Mrs. Prendergast. “We have been an entirely organic household since 1995 and---“

“Orders from Hartford, ma’am,” said the officer. “Take it up with the governor. Meanwhile, if I could just ask you to turn around.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“Turn around, please, ma’am.”

“Mom,” begged Louisa, “would you just do as he says? This is awkward.”

The car lurched as Mrs. Prendergast did a 180-degree turn. “Enough of this,” she said. “We’re going someplace safe.”

Louisa nodded, then a horrid suspicion dawned.

“Oh, no,” she said. “No, no, no, no, no…”

***

L’Ecole de la Culture Francaise was in an old house at the center of town; Mrs. Prendergast made it just before the police closed the road behind them. Madame Leclerc, the director of the school, met them at the door.

“Madame Leclerc,” said Mrs. Prendergast, shaking hands. “It is good to see a friendly face. May we come in?”

“But of course,” said Madame Leclerc. “However, I must ask you to be a bit quiet, please, as we are watching TV.”

Mrs. Prendergast and Louisa joined a group gathered around a computer. “The situation appears to be resolving,” Governor Malloy was saying. “I have just heard that nineteen of the twenty worms have been, uh, dealt with…”

“You mean killed?” asked a reporter.

“That is correct.”

Louisa’s stomach turned. She thought of the bow the worm had given at the flagpole.

“What about the twentieth?” the reporter was saying.

“The twentieth worm was last spotted heading south on the Black Rock Turnpike,” replied the governor. A gasp went up from the group at the computer. One of the younger teachers fainted; no one noticed.

“Madame Leclerc,” whispered Louisa, “I have an idea.”

“En francais, mon enfant. En francais.”

“J’ai un---une---oh, will you just listen to me already?”

Madame Leclerc raised an eyebrow.

“Madame,” said Louisa, “I don’t think that these worms really mean to hurt anyone. It would be a shame to stand by and watch the last one get killed, and for what? Because we’re scared of a little slime? If I’ve learned one thing here at your school, it’s that a person has to stand up and say something when somebody else is being treated badly.”

Madame Leclerc looked at Louisa through her glasses.

“There’s a garden here, right?” said Louisa, meeting her stare. “Okay. This is what I think we should do.”

***

“There,” said Madame Leclerc, brushing bits of rotting leaves off her suit. “Do you think that is enough?”

“I hope so,” said Mrs. Prendergast. “Louisa, what do you think?”

“It’s perfect, Mom.”

They stood back and surveyed their work: the compost pile had been moved to the front lawn of the school. The rest of the staff of L’Ecole de la Culture Francaise, too frightened to leave the building, were watching from the windows.

“But what will we do if the police come?” said Mrs. Prendergast.

“Do not worry. Leave that to me,” said Madame Leclerc.

“Hey, look!” shouted Louisa.

Was she imagining things? Was this her worm, the very one which had slithered its way through Woodburn Elementary? It was! Louisa waved; the worm lifted its head.

“You must be hungry,” said Louisa. “Please come and have something to eat. See---we’ve set out a nice meal for you!”

Louisa was so pleased by the sight of the worm chomping away at leaves, grass clippings, and bits of cabbage that she did not see the police car pulling up. Mrs. Prendergast and Madame Leclerc exchanged glances. Madame Leclerc came and stood by Louisa.

“Ma’am,” said the police officer, “I need to ask you and the girl to move away from the worm, please.”

“Non,” said Madame Leclerc. The worm continued to munch.

“Ma’am,” said the officer, “I have orders from Hartford. I don’t want to have to ask you twice.”

“You can ask me as many times as you like,” said Madame Leclerc. “I will have nothing to do with the taking of this innocent creature’s life.”

“Nor will I,” said Mrs. Prendergast, and came to stand with them. She grasped Louisa’s hand.

“You ladies are going to need to come down to the station with me,” said the officer.

Suddenly the worm squirmed and contracted. A pile of sludge higher than Louisa’s head appeared. Madame Leclerc clapped her hands.

“Magnifique!” she cried. “Perfect for the winter vegetables!”

“Winter vegetables?” said the policeman.

“Monsieur---as a very great Frenchman once said, il faut cultiver notre jardin---we have to cultivate our garden. And the garden cannot be cultivated without many, many shovels of---how do you say?---“

“Castings,” said Mrs. Prendergast. “Worm castings.”

“So there, you see? You interfere with the worm castings and you are interfering with la culture, monsieur.” Madame Leclerc pointed to the sign at the door. “And la culture is what our school is all about.”

The police officer shifted his feet. “It’s against orders from Hartford,” he said.

“I assume all responsibility, monsieur. Arrest me if you must, but the worm stays. It is a new movement: Occupy the Compost Pile. Follow us on Twitter and friend us on Facebook.”

***

The worm is still living in the garden, protected by L’Ecole de la Culture Francaise and a slew of lawyers. Mrs. Prendergast spends all her time there with a bullhorn, organizing for the rights of vitamin-crazed monsters everywhere. Louisa, who now looks forward to Wednesday afternoons, is learning how to administer a Facebook group. As for Madame Leclerc, her winter vegetables are coming along nicely, and should, I think, make a tasty soup.

***************

About the Author: Anna Bendiksen was born in Detroit, Michigan. She received her bachelor's degree in Russian from Bryn Mawr College and a master's in Slavic languages and literatures from Yale University. A novice weaver, she lives with her husband and son in Fairfield, Connecticut, where compost piles abound.

About the Art: worm by Peranandham Ramaraj of Coimbatore, Tamilnadu, India