Alisa and the Big, Green Worm

I hate insects. I can tolerate ants and flies, but that's about it, and I can't think too hard about what they look like up close. I am especially terrified of things with several legs and worms: no legs, but plenty of slime and five hearts to boot. Ew.

When I was very young, I'll say around seven, I was playing outside with my friends. The day was sunny and warm, the grass green and moist - it must have been spring. I noticed some of the neighborhood kids gathered on my next-door neighbor's lawn, so I went over to see what was up. They all pointed and awestruck, commented excitedly about the giant green worm that was laying in the grass. I looked. I didn't see a giant green worm, but a little tiny brown one looking every bit as innocuous as a comma on a page. I reached down to touch it in spite of the screams and warnings of my friends.

My finger hit something thick, firm and yes, green. What I had thought I saw was a tiny worm laying on a blade of grass. In reality, what it was was a huge green worm with a tiny brown spot on it, camouflaged in the grass, just like my ever-vigilant friends had said it was. It was bigger and fatter than I ever thought an insect was capable of being. Shocked at first, then instantly revolted, I drew back, then, as the impact of what I had touched sunk in, began to do a dance of terror. I was jumping up and down, screaming at the top of my lungs. Mrs. G., who was on her way to visit my mom, walked over to see what was happening, and quickly reported to my mother that something horrible had happened to me, that I seemed to have lost my mind.

It took a while, but I calmed down, my full-blown horrors reduced to shudders, then finally peace, as I forced the memory out of my head. Even though I have never run into such an insect again, the enormity of it has not caused me any more comfort with bugs of a smaller size. I still hate them.