Folks, admitting you’ve got worms will make you about as socially popular as someone publicly declaring they might have head lice. Invites to high tea and bikkies with the Queen will simply vanish.
Thankfully, I don’t have worms; anymore… I think.
Well, hopefully, not since last week when Long Suffering Wife handed me a square of chocolate and insisted I swallow it immediately. Afterwards, it dawned on me that she’s been asking a lot of questions about my life insurance policy lately, so I demanded she tell me exactly what it was I had just voluntarily eaten.
“Worm tablet,” she replied. Fair enough.
Still, I dug the worm tablet box out of the bin to see what, if any, side-effects were and was immediately intrigued by the picture of the smiling worm on the front of the pack. The grinning maggot appeared to be delighted with our choice to use this product to bring sudden destruction to his own kind.
What sort of a traitor was this slimy little creature to his wormy brethren?!
Anyway, once you see something, you can’t un-see it, so for the rest of the week I’ve been gazing at marketing pictures of animals earnestly trying to convince us that their sincerest wish is that we humans consume, or eradicate, them. Doe-eyed cows, laughing fish, fleas, fly’s, rodents and grains with human faces beaming inanely on cereal packets.
Roosters trying to entice me into to eat their girlfriends and unborn children, or, a leering pig inviting me to dine in a restaurant dedicated to cooking his kith and kin. The lousy swine!
It’d be like discovering that George Clooney accepted cash from Great White Sharks to let them put his smirking mug on ‘Swimmer in a Can! – freshly farmed off Australian beaches and lightly basted in coconut oil!’
Mr. Clooney would be about as popular in Oz as someone with chronic flatulence stepping into a crowded lift, and rightly so!
Mind you, George and Mr. Flatulence would probably still be more socially acceptable than anyone dumb enough to publicly admit they have worms… or nits!