I walked into the garage to get into my car, but I stopped when I saw that someone had left a twisted, rusty nail on the floor. How dangerous, I thought. Why would someone leave this here? I bent down to pick it up and throw it in the trash, where it belonged. But it wasn’t a rusty nail. It was soft. And alive. I screamed and rushed back inside with my hand outstretched in front of me so I wouldn’t contaminate any other piece of me, and I washed it with soap and industrial cleaners. I’ll never be the same. (I was going to add a picture of a worm, but worms are gross, so I’m leaving you with this:)
