Mutant undead worms

The worm farm that I was running in my little back yard came to an untimely heat-induced demise last summer. Where once were thriving workers became then a stinky lifeless morass. They fell off their collective perches, ceased pining for the fjords (or whatever it is that worms pine for), shuffled off their mortal coils, and became ex-worms, of the kind that wouldn’t “voom” if you sent four million volts through them.

I was going to do something about this (e.g., buy some new worms, or, more likely, abandon the whole operation), but in typical fashion didn’t get around to whatever it was that I hadn’t gotten around to deciding I would do.

At one point in autumn or winter I bravely opened the lid of the worm farm box, and discovered the first few foot-free-soldiers of a soon-to-grow undead army of haplotaxids.

Amazing.

So, the worm farm has been restored to its composting role. Given the large amount of carrot peel that dominates the food scraps going into the farm, however, I fear that my megadriles will soon be able to see in the dark and develop curly hair.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.