The Decomposers

    “Happy Birthday Jeffy!”

    “Mae a with!” my two year old baby sister shrieks out loudly. Elle could be pretty loud when she wanted to, even for her petite size.

    I blow out all eleven candles in one go and forget to make a wish. I guess there's always next year, I think.

    “Open this one son!” says Dad reaching for what looks like a cup wrapped in girlish Happy Birthday pink wrapping paper. Elle’s birthday was just the month before so my presents were always wrapped in her wrapping paper. Saves money and time, I guess.

My mom, dad, and sister crowd around me as I place what seems like a six inch tall circular wrapped cup on the table. I’m hoping it’s the new 3,000 electric mini car, but doubt it. I pick it up, weigh it, smell it, and I’m on the verge of shaking it when my mom tells me,

    “Don’t shake it Jeffrey! It's very fragile.”

    I nod, place the gift back on the table, and close my eyes as I begin unwrapping the mysterious present. As I unwrap the paper, I hear the musical sound of the soft and satisfying crinkle of the paper against my hands. I identify the smoothness and occasional sandpapery glitter beneath my fingers. I feel the unwrapped present and it’s cold. The smell emitting from the object is strange, and I can’t quite pinpoint what the smell is exactly. I am clueless and have no idea what the present could possibly be.

I open my eyes and see before me a clear Mason jar filled to the brim with soil and a couple of holes poked into the lid. I stare cluelessly at the immobile glass object, holding back my frown for fear that I’d disappoint my family with the immense disappointment at my present. I am secretly upset that it’s not the 3,000 electric mini car I wanted.

I smile with effort and ask the most obvious question, “What is it?”

“Oh, look deary, he doesn’t even know what it is but he already likes it, look at his smile!” Mom says energetically to my dad while pinching my cheek.

“Good question, son. We know how much you’ve always wanted a pet soooo,” Dad looks around dramatically and begins to drum-roll on the table, “we got you two earthworms!!!!”

My soul crashes at the word ‘worm,’ but my smile heightens to express my fake happiness.

“Orm! Orm! Orm!” my sister points with much fervency and jumps up and down at  something moving in the brown abyss.

I trace Elle’s finger and notice a long slimy creature with no legs, no eyes, and certainly no ability to think crawling around inside my jar.

Dad continues to speak after I mumble a word of thanks, “You see, your mother and I thought it was time you took up some more responsibility. We immediately began searching on the web for pets when you said that you wanted a dog. A dog would be too challenging for your age so we thought of easier pets to handle that would be perfect for you to take care of. We first thought of a goldfish, but later found out that their bowl needs to be cleaned at least once a week. Then, we thought of a nice little hamster. Nothing was wrong with an honest to goodness hamster until we--,”

Dad suddenly erupts into a choking fit that plays pause on his speech. He gasps for water and Mom brings it to him. He gulps the water down and then inhales and exhales multiple times. 

Once he redeems his breath he continues, “Sorry about that. Well, where was I? Ah right, a pet hamster. Your mom and I discovered that their expenses pay up enormously later in their life. So that wouldn’t work, either. Together, we brainstormed different ideas for a pet but none of them would work for you and this household. After much thinking, your mom and I finally discovered the perfect pet for you. Remember when we went to The Bug Zoo?”

I’m about to reply, but I guess Dad meant it to be rhetorical and continued, “Well, we remember that you enjoyed visiting the worms so much.”

Underneath my breath I whisper that I liked visiting the spiders but no one heard me.

“And after much more research, we found out that worms were easy to take care of, very quiet creatures, no cleaning required, and no need to feed them. We immediately went to The Pet Express and saved two little fellows from becoming a lizard’s dinner.” Dad finishes his speech by taking a couple of deep breaths to regain his oxygen levels.

“Jeffy, I’m so proud of you! You're growing up so fast,” says Mom rising from her position next to me in order to cut the cake. By the way, my family has very strange traditions. One of them is having a slice of cake with our breakfast on our birthdays. It’s weird but delicious.

Elle is still occupied with an elongated worm, watching its slimy body burrow into the soil and unexpectedly resurfacing, which she responds to with yelps of joy.

“And one more thing,” Dad says once he has recovered his breath, “We can put vegetables and recycled paper with the worms and create our own personal compost! Isn’t that incredible Jeffrey?”

“Yes Dad, it is.” I respond with phony energy.

***

Once the cake is cut and eaten, I journey upstairs, head to my room with my jar of earthworms, and close the door. I like my room, everything in it is fine except for the wallpaper. The wallpaper is a shade of sky blue and hasn’t been repainted since it served as my nursery when I was a baby. My bed is in the shape of a race car, Lightning McQueen to be specific, with matching lightning bolt sheets. I also have photos and magazine clips of my favorite animals and race car drivers holding trophies that adorn my room. I’m a nature and racecar fan for life and nothing will change that.

I place the Mason jar onto my desk and sit down in my fluffy wheelie chair as I study my worms. The elongated worm that caused my sister to shout is perched atop a mound of dirt and the other is most likely buried underneath the soil, probably too scared to come up to the surface.

The worm that is visible reminds me of a king in the book I’m reading, Roldo the King and His Conquests. The book is amazing so far. I had just gotten to the part where Roldo had entered the gates of enemy territory alone and came out alive after slaughtering all the enemies. No one believed he could do it, except me. I would have gone with Roldo. I place my attention back to the long worm. It looked as if it was taking a sunbath without a care in the world; lucky worm.

“Jeffrey! School! Hurry up birthday boy or else you’re going to be late for Bring Your Pet To School Day! You’re finally going to be able to show something to your class!” Mom calls.

I hurriedly grab my race car backpack, which hangs on a hook on the back of my bedroom door, and remember to collect my jar of worms. I pass my sister in the hall before going downstairs, and she asks if she could see the worms. I politely and quickly tell her no and dash down to the kitchen where Mom is waiting for me.

“Honey! Remember to feed Elle at noon and let her nap.--Here’s your lunchbox,” Mom hands me my racecar container and matching water bottle, “Everything ready? Your worms? Homework?” I answer yes to all her questions, “Good. Ok, get in the car, and I’ll meet you there.”

I hear a click as the car is unlocked, “I’ll see you in the car Mom and please hurry, I don’t want to be late.”

“I’ll be right there, Jeffrey,” Mom answers.

I walk to the car and, once strapped in the backseat, wait. Mom arrives soon after, and we’re off to Pine Elementary School.

***

Once at school, I enter Mr. Peter's fifth grade classroom after an abrupt goodbye to Mom. I say hello to all my friends and sit down on the rainbow rug to wait for the speakers to announce the morning assembly. As usual, we complete the Pledge of Allegiance and the announcements are announced. When the speakers go silent, Mr. Peters asks about our weekend and brings our attention to today’s Bring Your Pet to School Day. Most of the classmates in my class volunteer to go first, raising their hands enthusiastically hoping to be the first to get picked.

“Hmmmmm, we have quite a lot of pets in our class. Anyone else have any pets that haven’t raised their hands?” Mr. Peters asks.

Everyone’s hands go down, as mine slowly goes up. It is a very embarrassing moment for me.

“Ah! Jeffrey, how about you start our pet show and tell!?”

I answer yes, like I could’ve said anything else, and retrieve my jar from my cubby outside. Once I’m back, I stand at the front of my class and begin.

“Hi. My name is J-Jeffrey Stullehum and this is my pet.” I bring my jar of worms behind my back to present it to the class. Everybody is silent until Mr. Peters speaks,

“Very nice Jeffrey but what is your pet exactly?”

I shuffle my feet, look down at the ground, and answer shyly, “A worm.”

Everyone erupts into laughter as Mr. Peters attempts to scold and quiet the class. My face begins to feel hot, and I know I’m as red as a beet. As the class quiets down and Mr. Peters encouragingly gives me leave to speak, I hesitantly begin again.

“W-w-well, I have t-two worms. I have n-not named t-th-them yet,” I resolve to strengthen my voice and it pays off, “a-and I’d appreciate any name suggestions.”

I quickly wrap up my pet show and tell and excuse myself to put my pets back in my cubby. When I return, I sit down on an open green spot on the rainbow rug to quietly listen to the rest of my classmates’ pet show and tell.

***

Once everyone has shared, Mr. Peters dismisses us to lunch and recess. When I reach into my backpack for my lunchbox I check on my worms. I gasp and attempt to hide my surprise so I won’t gather attention. I rub my eyes, not daring to believe what I see. The same sight meets my eye. The elongated king worm is dead, shriveled up on its mound laying in the sunlight forever to be known to me as the fallen king.

I silently dispose of the fallen worm under an elm tree during recess, forming a small hole in the earth for the worm’s grave, attempting to make the worm’s burial as romantic as possible, something I’ve often seen in books and movies. I don’t shed any tears because our relationship did not last long for me to become too attached. While pushing dirt over the worm, I remember that during my silent reading period I finished reading Roldo The King and His Conquests. Well, he was eventually overthrown from his kingdom of Pulgria by his enemies’ and forced into hiding.

Once the king worms’ burial is complete, I return to recess and play with my friends making sure to remain quiet about the funeral. Only when I returned back to class do I think about the other worm, the worm I have never seen.

***

When mom picks me up and inquires about school and the pet show and tell, I switch on my counterfeit smile telling her that school was great. Later, when I’m searching the web in my bedroom, I find out that the cause of the king worm’s death was an excess of sunlight which dried out the worm’s moist skin. I lean back into my wheelie chair and close my eyes.

Hmmm, I think, I wonder what happened to the other worm. I peer at the Mason jar and notice a small slimy creature creeping its way to the surface. I immediately take the jar out of the sunlight and press my face up against the glass.

“Hello, little guy. We’re going to be the best of friends.”