The Evolution of Worm

Readers,
It has started. My evolution into the world's deadliest defender of decency has begun. It is a transformation which has consumed me for much of these past few weeks. I've been growing and changing almost daily. La Vaca and The Agriculturalist seem amazed, even somewhat frightened, by my new powers. In fact my new powers are so great, I am kept up by the thought of my own deadliness. For as with any great change, comes great sleeplessness.

In order to strike fear in the hearts of my enemies, I have posted a video training log highlighting the power of my evolution.

Video #1: The Death Flop

Video #2: Advanced Composting

Video #3: Marsupial of Mayhem

Video#4: Kiai-jitsu

Video #5: The Alligator Death Roll

(Ignore La Vaca's concern. I don't get hurt. I give hurt. Remember it.)

Impressive, I know.

Truth, Justice, and the Wormy Way

Happy Halloween Readers,

Today is a big day for this worm. The Agriculturalist and La Vaca have presented me with a special gift. . . my very first superhero costume. Crafted by the skilled hands of The Seamstress (or Auntie Cath for those who do not run in superhero circles), it is a thing of beauty.

One of the things you learn early on as a superhero is that the best disguise is no disguise. By that I mean that if you dress up in spandex and fight crime, you stand out. If that is your goal then by all means go for it; I won't judge. But if you are into being a bit stealthier, if you like to watch and calculate your moves before you strike, then blending in is your best weapon. And yet, although I have been trained in the latter the former is way more fun. Today I get the best of both worlds. Today is the one day of the year that you can dress up in your crime fighting outfit and blend in. Everyone is dressed up. They think you are part of the crowd. In fact they even come close up and tell me I am cute. They bend towards me and make googly eyes and cooing noises. "That's it", I think. "Just a little bit closer". "Just one more inch", and then WHAMMO! The worm gets you. Composted!

Here is the epic looking image that should grace most everyone's desktop and should haunt the minds of those who do evil.

Here is one that shows off my flying ability (you didn't know I could fly, I know).

P.S. For those of you who think I look less like a worm and more like a flying turd...well I am going to get you.

Worm: Jumping for Justice

Readers,

I've been recently noticing a trend in the blogosphere called the Jock Update, a public display of one's athletic prowess. As many of your know, I too am an athlete of sorts. Superheros are to athletes what a Ducati is to a Moped. We are the dream, the reason to awake at 4 a.m., and pound the pavement in sub-zero temperatures while the rest of the world lies peacefully nestled beneath their covers. Inside of every athlete there lies the potential for greatness. Sometimes all it takes to overcome your limitations is a little motivation.

Motivation can come in many forms. Most athletes train to better themselves, to push their own personal limits, to prove themselves worthy. Yet, I train because the world depends on it. If I fail, evil wins.

And so while most of these Jock Updates are focused on more traditional forms of exercise like running (I'm looking at you Mr. I-Ran-8 miles-in 1:08:57), I've decided to give the world a glimpse at what it takes to keep a superhero fit. Prepare to stand in awe. . .

Oh crap.

I never cease to amaze

I never cease to amaze myself. I discovered the other day yet another superpower. I thought that the ability to compost was a gift enough. The other day I was sitting around in my office just doing some work. Flipping things around, pushing buttons, learning what the cat says etc. I believe that "the apple is red". It was a day in the office like any other day when I decided to poop myself. No big deal, happens all the time. This time it was different. Something was new.

It stunk.

I have the ability to expel noxious gas from my butt. Who new? I am not sure how best to use this power but I am sure that I can ask my dad to explain it. He has a similar power, I must have inherited this one from him.

I look forward to learning about my new powers and how to utilize them to fight evil.

Until the next time.

Theme Song

So this is a short post. I just wanted to share with everyone that one of the Agriculturalist's former students sent him a link to my theme song. My favorite line is "They call me Dr. Worm/I'm interested in things/I'm not a real doctor/But I am a real worm.

They Might Be Giant's is my favorite band and I recommend them to everyone. A real superhero needs a theme song and now I have one!

The Angler

It is with a heavy heart that I write this latest update. After being attacked by the Early Bird with the 'teething ray' that has left me covered in spit and cranky I thought it couldn't get any worse. Apparently the forces of evil are in fact...well...evil. I am to assume that the nexus of evildoers must have some sort of facebook page in which they conspire against me. Dislike button.

Last weekend the Agriculturalist, La Vaca, and I went to Medfield to do some visiting. We saw Nanna D and then she and I walked over to Uncle Chico's house. Mom and Dad met us over there but Uncle Chico wasn't home. We stopped by Chad's instead and we did some visiting but the whole time I couldn't concentrate because I had a bad feeling.

Where was Chico? I found out that he was heading up to Maine and then to Canada to go fishing. That sounds fun. I don't know what it is but it sounds fun. It appears that he was going to sell my great grandmother's house and then continue up Down East.

So far so good. Then I asked some questions. What is fishing? What is Canada? I am not sure I liked the answer. To catch a fish, it seems, is not like catching a baseball or a cold. I have seen people catch baseballs and that seems fun. I have caught a cold and that wasn't fun. To catch a fish you put a metal hook in the water and the fish bites it. That sounds dumb. Why would a fish bite a hook? The answer was that you put something on the hook that the fish likes to eat so that it fools the fish. Like what I asked? La leche de madre? No, I was told. You put things like...wait for it...WORMS on hooks.

WORMS! That is barbaric. I am a worm! I don't want a fish to bite me and I don't want to be impaled on a hook. This is horrible. Then it occurred to me. I have been warned about The Angler before and I have read about his shady dealings. Could Uncle Chico be the Angler?

Is it possible that he absconded with my great-grandmother's money and fled to another country (I found out that Canada is another country that is like the U.S. only polite)? Could there be an enemy amongst us?

Can I trust ever again? Oh, readers, what a week. I think I need a three day weekend to recover from this potential disaster.

Wish me well.

Early Bird Strikes Again

Readers, I've been birded! That wily octogenarian, Early Bird, has done something to me. I'm cranky, drooly, feverish, and worst of all sleepless! How can I be expected to combat injustice with no sleep? Crime-fighters need to be sharp and well rested. I must find a way to thwart Early Bird's plan. But how?

Let me back up and explain how it all started. About a week about, I awoke from a sound sleep, around 2 a.m., drenched in my own spit, and with an uncontrollable desire to compost things. This desire to chew was so great that I started gnawing on my own hand! I was so frightened by my inability to control this impulse that I began to cry. Yes, cry! The mighty Worm was reduced to tears. La Vaca, awoken by my distress, immediately whisked me away from my burrow. Thinking, understandably, that I was hungry she tried to give me my favorite food, la leche de la madre. But while I can never really say no to this heavenly ambrosia, my heart was just not into it. To make La Vaca happy, I nibbled a bit here and a bit there but the need to chew trumped even my need to eat. In my delirium, I even tried to compost La Vaca! (BTW don't ever try to compost La Vaca. . . she gets really upset). Finally, not knowing how to help me, La Vaca summoned The Agriculturalist.

The Agriculturalist and I spent the good chunk of the evening trying to figure out what was wrong with me. When suddenly, just as dawn was approaching, my need to chew subsided and I was able to drift off into a fitful slumber. Yet rest, that elusive minx, played coy. For shortly after I fell asleep, I woke up drenched not in my own spit but rather in sweat. La Vaca and the Agriculturalist huddled over me sizing up my affliction. The Agriculturalist wisely decided to check my temperature, 100.4! Readers, I'll admit that once I heard the news about my temperature, I may have lost my cool. Okay, I definitely lost my cool. Some might even have called me hysterical. It's just that I'd never been sick before and confronting my own mortality was just too much for this small worm to take.

It was during this existenial crisis that La Vaca called in the professionals Dr. Garofalo, aka The Pediatrician. The Pediatrician called me into the dark carverns of her office the next day where she stripped me naked, weighed me, and prodded me in various orifices. I don't know how any of this helps a fever; but she is The Pediatrician and you don't question The Pediatrician. After being handled like an animal sold at market, I braced myself for the good doctor's diagnosis. . . I was "pre-teething". I was getting teeth. Teeth, you say? Yes, TEETH! Bones that are going to push their way through my flesh. The horror! I shudder even now at the thought. Who has ever heard of a worm with teeth? Worms don't have teeth; it is a clear attempt to de-worm me and transform me into something else, something more . . . human, less . . . super.

This attempt to mutate me from my worm-like self can only be the work of a bitter rival, one so filled with vitrol that they seek vengenacne by changing my very being. It has to be the work of The Early Bird. Like Spiderman and the Fantastic Four before me, I can only assume that this devious plot has been done through invisible radiation shot at me during my patrols with The Agriculturalist. This is the only thing that I can think of that would cause such a mutation to appear so suddenly.

Strangly both the Agriculturalist and La Vaca seem excited by this and not enraged, as I hoped they would be. Perhaps this "teething" has advantages that I have yet to see. I will need to meditate on it further. Until then readers. . . pray for me.

Worm in Love

Readers, I'm in love. Real, tingly, earth shaking love! Her name is Dora and the very thought of her makes me smile. Oh how I wish you could see her! She's long and elegant with breathtaking angular features. Her porcelain skin shines in the soft morning light.

We met while my mother and I were having lunch at our favorite spot, The Rocking Chair. I had just ordered the special, la leche de la madre, when I saw her! Although we never made eye contact, I knew that very moment that this was the woman for me. For weeks Dora resisted my advances. Nothing I did or said seemed to make any impression upon her. I thought all was for not. That I'd be doomed to spend my days pining for one who would never love me in return. I was sleepless, cranky, desperate for a kind word or gentle smile but nothing.

Then one day something changed. I had returned to The Rocking Chair, my mother in tow, hoping to try once again to catch my lady's eye when a surprising thing happened. Dora winked at me! After weeks of rejection finally a sign of hope! I couldn't wait to get back to the restaurant to see her again. My mother began to suspect something was up because all throughout our meal I had a hard time looking at anything but my lovely. Finally, seething with jealousy, my mother turned around to see what had captured my eye. And do you know what she had the audacity to say? Do you know?! She looked straight at my love and said "Malcolm what are you looking at? That's just a door." A door? A door?!! How could my mother slander Dora like that? How could she not appreciate her linear design, her sparkly faux crystal door knob. . . oh I could go one for ages. How could she not see how Dora had enchanted me?

It took me a while to forgive her but eventually I got hungry again and decided a truce between mom and me was in our mutual best interest. Dora and I continue to take things slowly but I know, I just know, we are going to be together forever! For readers although she projects a tough, some would say wooden, exterior, inside there's a fragile flower just waiting for a worm to come and fertilize her heart.

Worm in Training

Greetings Citizens and Fellow Crime Fighters,
These past few weeks have been super busy. Evil does not sleep but recently I've begun sleeping more and more. This has posed quite the problem. For how can I both fight the sleepless evil in our midst and remain rested enough to keep my wits about me? Already in my absence, Early Bird and the Angler have attempted to seed the 'Boro with their malice. Thus, I've started a new training regiment in hopes of strengthening my composting skills so much that the very thought of my retaliation will send these punks screaming.

My day begins at 5 a.m. with a quick breakfast. The good thing about getting up so early is the quiet. So after eating, I try to take advantage of this serene time of day by visualizing my opponents and plotting ways to foil them. If anyone saw me in the midst of this mediation they would assume I had gone back to sleep but really I am hyper-aware. Around 6:15 a.m., La Vaca rouses me from my meditative state and helps me don my uniform. Then she and I head to the dojo (which is disguised as a day care so as to thwart enemy infiltration) run by the indomitable Kyoshi (master) Patti. There I have two sensei--Susan and Mary. I spend most of the morning working with them on various skills sets--hand-eye coordination, bowel control and verbalization. I have mastered kiai jutsu (see here: http://fightingarts.com/reading/article.php?id=158) and the ancient but little known art of spit bubbles. Around 11 a.m. La Vaca and The Agriculturalist come check on my progress and provide much needed sustenance. After which, I reengerize by meditating in the dark. . . in my crib. . . for several hours. It takes a lot of concentration. Then at 2:30 p.m. La Vaca and The Agriculturalist come to take me back to the homestead where we prepare for our evening of hunting down and composting injustice on the streets of Attleboro.



In the morning, we begin again. . .

school's in

Welcome all. Mom and dad started school this week. So did I. It has only been two days but so far I like my teachers a lot and so far it is pretty nice. There is lots to look at. They have already figured out that I like floating bears. I have spent the last few days looking at stuff (there is a lot to look at) and sleeping. The best part of my day is when mom and dad come and pick me up. I have also spent a lot of time with my various grandmothers. Nanny D and I spent all day together on Wednesday before school started. We went for a walk and we listened to the vacuum. It was a nice relaxing way to spend the day before school started. Then on Thursday Grandma Jean surprised me and came up. I love surprises. We spent a few hours with her.

Oh, by the way I am on my way to become a millionaire. Mom and Dad started up my bank account. I have a five year CD and a savings account. I assume that with interest I should have a few million in the bank by the time I am 18.

It has been a busy few weeks but I am sure that more will come.

Thanks,

Worm

Oooh, those kind of shots.

Hello all, it has been a while since my last report. I spent ten days on Cape Cod. I will be updating you later on that. I just wanted to let you know that I had my doctors appointment today. If you are paying attention, last time I was promised shots and I was getting ready. Dad was my designated driver and I was ready to party. Then the ladies came in and they shoved needles in my legs, three times! This is a shot?! I don't like this type of shot.

Fortunately I have been reading up on my Nietzsche and I do know that what doesn't kill me only makes me stronger. I am strong. I stopped crying by the time I hit the waiting room. Now it is time for a nap. Later I will let you know about my Cape trip.

Peace.

My Training Week

First I apologize for the delay in keeping you updated in my every move. We left off last time after I went to the zoo with Nanna Jean and Poppa Ted. I learned a lot at that particular trip. As a superhero I thought that I had cornered the market on super-powers. I am able to compost stuff like a champ. I can also squirm my way out of a lot of various situations. At the zoo I learned that there are a lot of animals with cool powers.

The giraffe can reach things really tall. The monkey can fling poo. The sloth can look ridiculously cute. Upon realizing this I decided to spend some time refining my skills and learning from others.

To do this I had to take a journey. Thus the lack of blogging. I went to the Dagoba System to meet a jedi named Yoda. I was told that he could teach me the way of the force. He did. I am awesome. It was tiring.
It was pretty rewarding however. I learned a lot of cool things, like how to lift x-wing fighters out of a bog, and how to fight a floaty laser thingie with a sword.

I decided to go back to the zoo to see how I would fare against the animals this time. This time I took Nanna Reed and Aunt Cathy.

We looked at a lot of animals. I was skeptical that I could take Ramses the lion after I saw this sign:

So I decided not to fight him (today). After looking at the animals I have decided that my powers (although not infinite) are enough for now. I will continue to train and improve, so don't be afraid. The worm will prevail. Monkey, I am looking at you.

Super Heroes Come from Super Grandparents

Even superheroes have grandparents. In fact most superheroes have super grandparents from whom they have inherited their special crime fighting skills. This is certainly the case with my three grandparents--Nana Dianne, Nana Jean, and Poppa "Bear" Ted--and one great grandmother--Mimi. From Nana Dianne, I have inherited a love of walking (cardio is vital to any superhero's fitness routine) and an almost supernatural ability to bake tasty things (great for distracting enemies--for one can't even think about evil and injustice whilst eating one of her tasty morsels). From Nana Jean, I have inherited a love of travel (while most superheros think about saving just their city--Batman, I'm talking to you--I have ambitions to save the whole world!) and a deep affection for all my fellow creatures,even the slimy ones (for isn't a worm just a kitten without fur or legs?). As for Poppa Ted, I have inherited a vivid imagination (there hasn't been a super villain yet that can out imagine me) and the ability to weave a great yarn (I even laugh, or rather smile, at my own stories like Poppa Ted). And from Mimi, I have inherited my ability to see the good in almost anyone (an important trait in my line of work for without believing that goodness resides in most people one might be brought down my life's injustice).

Recently Nana Jean and Poppa Ted came to visit me and take me on an outing. Anything that allows me to interact with the public and forget about the evil lurking just below the surface of the social order makes me happy. But where to go? We decided upon Roger Williams Zoo. It is a great place to interact with all sorts of animals each bestowed with their own special powers just like us here at the Menagerie.

On the way there Poppa Ted and I sat in the back seat. Although a little squished, Poppa Ted sacrificed his own comfort in order to fulfill the crucial role of the Binky Giver (sorry Nana Dianne. . . the Binky's power was too much for us all). When we got there I was so comforted that I felt a bit sleepy. In fact, I was so sleepy that I sleep through most of the zoo. Mom tells me that we saw all sorts of cool animals like elephants, giraffes, and tortoises. They even have a binturong like they do at Capron Park! Although, I totally needed the rest (it was a really busy night of crime fighting--I don't think I slept more than three hours the whole night), I am a bit disappointed that I didn't get to talk to some of these amazing creatures. Talking shop is how we crime fighters sharpen our skills.

But despite my disappointment at missing such an important opportunity to swap crime fighting tips with my peers, it was wonderful to spend the day with my grandparents. It is hard to live so far away from them but the distance makes it all the more special when I finally do get to see them.

Every hero needs a villian or two

Today I met my second nemeses. The day started out nice enough. I got a great nights sleep last night and I awoke all full of the promises of a great day. Mom and I hung out and then Dad and I hung out and things were going well. After my lunch (which is after my brunch, which is after my breakfast, which is after my late-night snack) my dad put me in the car seat. I love to drive around and go places, this is going to be fun.

We drove for ten minutes or so and arrived in an unfamiliar parking lot by a large brick building. My reading level is pretty low (I am only six weeks old) so I couldn't quite make out the sign but it looked like some place where people practice being a family (it said Family Practice on the door and that makes sense to me). We went inside and there were lots of toys in this nice room with chairs and a lady at a desk. Dad and I played while mommy talked to the lady.

Then we went into this small room, it was pretty neat. Then all of a sudden this little short lady came in and told me she was my doctor. She then forcibly stripped me down, poked me, prodded me, put cold things on me, measured me and weighed me like I was a captured animal. All twenty-one and a half inches and ten pounds four ounces of me felt violated. So I did what I do best, I used my super powered scream to try to scare her off. She wasn't even fazed. She is a strong one, she is.

Next time she mentioned something about doing shots (I thought I was too young to drink but that sounds cool). Maybe next time will go better. Maybe.

Things I Like

After a long day of fighting injustice, a guy (invertebrate crime-fighter) just wants to relax and unwind. Sounds simple, right? Maybe for ordinary mortals. But for those that have chosen to guard the path of justice, relaxation is an elusive mistress. Still there are some things that help distract me, if only for a moment, from the burden of my responsibilities.

1: The Vacuum Cleaner

They say "music can soothe the savage beast." Well, I don't know about that but it sure helps me relax. As I have previously mentioned, my favorite band is the Vacuum Cleaner. I am often lulled to sleep by its hypnotic hum. The Cleaner is an under-appreciated musical talent. My brother, Oreo, would rather jump out the window than have to listen to it for more than a second. He has even on occasion been known to run screaming from the room the minute I put The Cleaner on (what a drama queen). And while they would never admit it to my face, my parents aren't huge fans either. They are constantly trying to limit the amount of time I get to listen to The Cleaner. I think they're worried about its explicit content. But I'm five weeks old, an active member of a secret, underground, crime-fighting organization, and a registered Democrat, I should be allowed to chose my own music without parental interference!

2: Stinkboy

My best friend is Stinkboy. He lives in the picture above my changing table. I can't say enough about him. I could just sit and talk to him for minutes. . . I mean it--whole minutes! He's such a good conversationalist that I sometimes totally ignore my parents' attempts to get my attention. This makes them so jealous that they even resort to changing my diaper in hopes I'll spent more of my time focused on them. Parents can be so clingy! Don't they realize that there are just some things a boy (invertebrate crime-fighter) can only discuss with his friends?

3. The Farm Mobile

As a active member of the Menagerie, the secret, underground, crime-fighting organization founded by my dad (The Agriculturist), is it any wonder that I have a thing for farm animals? And nothing relaxes me more than to see farm animals hanging from strings move in circles above my crib. Even on my worst days, where the weight of the injustice in the world is just too much for me to bare and nothing anybody does or says can comfort me, one look at the mobile and all my troubles seem to fade away. Unlike the Vacuum Cleaner my parents totally support my interest in the mobile. I guess they think it is more educational. Obviously thinking that my performance could help inspire relaxation in others, my parents even videotaped me rocking out to the mobile's melodies. I played it cool though and didn't let on that I noticed. You want these things to look natural.

So there it is. . . my list of the three most relaxing things in the world. For even the most heroic of invertebrate crime-fighters need some time to themselves.

Worm vs. The Early Bird

The saying goes "the early bird gets the worm". Remember that it is just a saying, it isn't always true. Sometimes the early bird gets eaten by the carnivorous nocturnal animal looking for a last minute snack before going to bed in the dawn's early light. It is natural for worms and early birds to be mortal enemies. Let me tell you how this particular rivalry came about.

The Worm (Malcolm's alter-ego) is a crime fighter who defends Attleboro with a sharp eye on justice and moral correctness. All crime is crime. There is no gray area. If you litter, worm will get you. If you turn right on a "no turn on red" intersection. You will pay. Of course if you do really bad stuff like steal and things, well that goes without saying.

One day (not too far back as worm is only five weeks old) he witnessed an injustice. An elderly lady (blue hair, cat's eye glasses, and a polyester pantsuit) was driving to dinner around 3:30pm (the early bird special, hence her name) when Malcolm witnessed her driving down the street at 15 miles per hour. The posted speed limit was 30 miles an hour and driving this slow was dangerous. To make matters worse the lady rolled through a stop sign, barely peering over the steering wheel.

Malcolm spun around in his swaddle cloth, turning it into his costume and transformed into, the worm. Using his powers of flatulence he was able to bore through the ground at high speeds cutting right under the roadway. As he surfaced to confront the Early Bird he realized that she had taken an illegal left down the wrong way of a one way street and gotten away.

"Next time, Early Bird, next time!" Worm shouted and shook his fist (tightly wrapped in his swaddle).

The next day Malcolm decided that he should attempt to infiltrate the Early Bird's lair so he disguised himself as a duck (see below) and figured that ducks and birds get along. Now for those of you following along it is clear that the Early Bird isn't actually a bird, but Malcolm is only five weeks old and he takes things very literally so it is of no surprise that her moniker confused him.

That afternoon Malcolm snuck up on the Early Bird, seeing him come close she threw bread crumbs at him (which distracted him) and then walked away. She foiled him again.

Worm knows that there will be a next time. And next time he will prevail. It isn't clear that Early Bird recognizes that there will be a next time, for it isn't exactly clear that she even knows that she is the mortal enemy of a small infant.

Until next time...

Oh the Injustice. . .

This is La Vaca, the Cow (aka Malcolm's mother), writing for Worm who is so overwhelmed by the injustice of the world that he has not stopped crying all the waking day. The Agriculturalist (aka Malcolm's father) and I have been desperately trying to devise a means to help relieve Worm of his suffering but alas nothing is working.

Usually, after a trying day of composting the world's most evil, Worm likes to unwind by listening to his favorite band, The Vacuum Cleaner. But today even the melodic stylings of the Cleaner is not enough to soothe him.

We suspect that Early Bird is behind Worm's sudden downturn. Last week Worm and Early Bird engaged in an epic struggle. Early Bird had the upper hand for most of the fight but Worm was able to successfully wiggle his way out of Early Bird's clutches. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to apprehend her at that time. This failure to bring Early Bird to justice may have triggered Worm's emotional downfall.

Let's hope, for all our sakes, that he's able to pull out of it soon. For I shutter to think of what will happen if he doesn't. . .

Me and my brother Oreo

The life of a superhero can get pretty lonely. You have to be careful who you let into your inner circle. For it is hard to tell who likes you for you and who's just trying to bask in the glory of your fame. That's why I'm so fortunate to have such a loving, supportive family to go home to at the end of the day. It's great to be able to let my guard down and unwind after a long day of fighting injustice. My family loves me for me--slime and all.

Take my big brother, Oreo. We didn't always get along. In fact he was mighty critical of me when I was younger. Nothing I did was ever good enough for him. He would literally run away whenever I entered the room. After a particuarly nasty fight, my dad had to actually coax him out from underneath the bed, correction from inside the boxspring, and make him apologize to me.

But recently we've begun to forge a more meaningful relationship. It all started when Oreo decided to finally sit down and share a meal with us. Unfotunately there wasn't a lot of room on Mom's lap and he fell off. Not to be detered Oreo jumped right back up there and eventually managed to eek out a spot in the little room between Mom's lap and the Boppy. Now he frequently joins me while I fuel up (though most of the time he is hiding underneath my crib--so as not to appear too clingy). It means a lot that he has started taking an interest in me.

And just today as I was resting up for my night of composting evil, Oreo came over and licked my feet. I must admit to being a bit startled at this sudden display of brotherly affection. In fact I was so startled I kicked him in the face. But he graciously forgave me and even licked me again.

So while I realize we may not see eye to eye on everything--I'm never going to get use to his scratchy tongue licks, he's never going to be really into my favorite band, The Vacuum Cleaner--I am grateful that I have such a loving brother with whom to share my home, my life, and my troubles.

Here I am: My name is Malcolm Theodore Reed. Most of the time I am innocent looking. But if I see injustice I get upset. Real upset. Watch me get upset at the injustice of being clean.