Part Four: Three Months Ago (3.5)

The Story of a Millipede,
By Just Seamus, AKA Hot Links

Once upon a time there was a little baby millipede named Daryl. He was abandoned shortly after hatching from his egg by his mother (as all little millipedes are). He never met his father, nor ever even knew he had one. He lived his little millipede life happy and free, feeding on dead decomposing matter (so tasty!), wriggling withersoever he wished with his three hundred twenty-two legs (his favorite leg, the one he calls 'Lucky Sam' is fourty-fifth from the back on his left side). One fine day Daryl met a particularly attractive female millipede names Phyllis, but she got squished, so he was sad. Life was at an all-time low (only four months old, poor bugger!), so he decided to go for a mid-night jog across the sidewalk to get his mind clear of things. Suddenly, out of the black sky, a giant pink Death-from-above swooped down upon him, trapping him. Poor Daryl saw his little life flash before his eyes, and had all but counted himself for dead, when to his astonishment the Death-from-above released him unharmed, having magically transported him to a strange far-away land with brand new and unfamiliar smells and textures. "Where am I?" Daryl asked himself, "And what a marvelous place this is!" He rubbed his lucky leg with two of the adjacent ones, smiling to himself all the while, feeling elated (as a millipede, it's rather hard to smile, so they only can pull it off during extremely heightened emotions). He set of at once to explore, hoping for a nice warm and dark crevice to lodge in before the great white blindness came, as it did at the end of every night. Steadily, throughout the night, he attracted to the one detectible source of heat, crossing vast planes, every one of which providing a new color, texture and smell to bedazzle his sensations. At last he arrived, and made no short order making himself at home. Little did he know, however, that his new-found resting spot was snuggled inside the supple bosom of Ykwanda the grocery store teller, who had little tolerance for millipedes such as he (the bigot!). Poor Daryl! Before he had been settled five minutes, Ykwanda had awoken from her slumber enough to tell something was amiss, and he was evicted from his new home with much violence and screaming. Fortunately for him, after having been roughly brushed off onto the bed, Ykwanda's panicked strikings did little other than to catapult Daryl into the air, landing him close to an open air vent. Hurriedly, he rushed inside. With continued signs of a struggle without, Daryl opted to move further into the vent. Soon he came across a jagged opening, one through which he could smell the welcoming scent of earth, moisture, and -graciously- the smell of decomposing matter. Daryl's adventure had left him with a monstrous appetite, so rubbing his lucky leg once more, he wriggled his way into the crawlspace paradise, the Land of No White Blindness, and had himself a mighty millipede feast.
And he lived happily ever after...