Blergh. You're probably wondering, unless you had the privilege to already read Mormor the Merrier's (me mum) blog, why I'd ever want to post such hideous creatures on here. Well, read on, and I'll enlighten you shortly.
After watching a thoroughly disturbing 1953 sci-fi film titled Invaders from Mars but enjoying it quite thoroughly, I graciously acknowledged the comforting thought that at least my parents weren't being controlled by an extraterrestial's tentacled-head, residing in a glass orb.
My graciousness was short-lived. No, my mom didn't go glassy-eyed on me and try to enslave me for her master's biddings, but something equally horrifying occured: my mom's two tomato plants were infested with bloated, green worms of destruction! Good criminitly crap! Well, wait. Let me back up a bit and start at the beginning.
So not long after finishing the movie, my mom announced she was going outside in the backyard to water her tomato plants she had planted a month or so ago. Shortly after she had passed through the backdoor, I began watching a show on TV. Only a couple minutes later, an urgent "Mary Anne!" rang through the evening air. My mother was calling me, in desperation it seemed--but for good or bad, I had not yet found out. She beckoned again, even more shrilly. What in the world is it? What's going on? I raced outside, perplexed and hesitantly curious. She was standing by her two tomato plants. I thought at first that she was just really excited her tomatoes on one of the plants were growing real well, thinking she was over reacting a bit. No, I looked at her face and saw revulsion, fear, and despair. She pointed and explained as she did so, a large, plump green (caterpillar, I thought) was hugging it's grotesque, jelly form against one of the branches. Good night, it was ugly. Sadly, this experience only deepened in the nightmare category.
Increduously, we became aware that three more gross green grubs feasted fiendishly upon the poor tomato plant's arms. I immediately wanted the vile things to be gone. As if reading my mind, my mom announced we had to get it off and snatched up a plastic trowel from nearby. The black plastic fell against supple, pale green flesh, prying and swiping with vicious endeavor. Still, the worm of evil clung. Her slashes with the makeshift sword against the foul beast became more frenzied, crescendoing with our dance of disgust and just plain freaking out, complete with many a well-deserved scream. She said something like, "It won't budge!" Her proclamation was sound. The wreaking worm of wrong held fast. What to do? What to do? In the back of my mind, I couldn't help but think perhaps salt would work against them? I returned with salt, shouting for my brother, James, to help us destroy these beastly bugs. Pretty soon, I was armed with a small glass salt shaker. I scattered the tiny white granules on the same worm we'd unsuccessfully tried to remove. Success! Very, very gross success.
Yep, the salt worked, exceedingly well. The creature soon resembled a very long, writhing Gusher fruit snack. Very nasty ordeal, but unusually satisfying. As if this wasn't sci-fi enough, the stupid slitherers still succeeded in staying on the branch after I had provided each a life of sodium overdose. That's where James came in. Instructed by my mother, James brandished a pair of steel barbeque tongs at the leeches. It worked! It was comically downright weird at one point and, dare you imagine, graphically gross, but it worked. What I mean is, one of the worms managed to stick to the branch even as James yanked at the poor devil. The result was sickening but cartoonish. The worm literally stretched out, half grabbing the branch and the other clamped in metal. It finally was ripped off, but, as James put it, "deflated" upon breaking contact with the branch. Blechchch... Nope, still not done grossing you out. Throughout this exoricism, each was gushing green goo, leaving plenty smeared upon the tongs--not unlike how a sword would look after slaying a fiery, scaled monster. Or for that matter, not unlike slaying a like-like:
Okay, no more. I think I've sufficiently grossed or scared the pants off of you. Now I just need to check the backs of my parent's necks.
Yeah...laugh! Watch the movie--you'll see!
3 comments:
That. Is. Gross.
Mary Anne, I would rather be invaded by Martians than face more tomato worms. That was the grossest thing I've ever dealt with. Thank goodness you and James were there!!! By the way, I've had 2 people comment on how brave you are to have all those worms on your hand! That was NOT your hand...just a photo from the internet.
Yes, it is. It is very gross.
Me too! Yes it was! Yeah, it was a three-person operation. Hahah, I would never place my hand in that kind of trauma-inducing jeopardy! I didn't even think anyone would think that was my hand. Oh well, let them hope.
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