Cream was babbling happily about this, that, and the other thing, but all he perceived as she held the dreaded object three inches from his face was the blood draining from it. She could have threatened to gut him with her plastic trowel, could have walked him this far out into the woods just to show him a freshly-dug grave big enough for him to fit snugly inside. Neither of those slasher-flick scenarios compared to the apprehension he now felt from the fat, squirming worm currently dominating his vision.

Cream let it slither over her wrist like the world's slimiest bracelet. "Isn't he cute, Mr. Sonic?"

His smile curled rigidly. His nod stiff. "Ah, yep."

"Mama says wormies help plants grow. They dig into the soil and make holes for them to breathe."

The worm flicked its tail at him. Or was that its brain? What kind of animal had its brain stuck in its butt, anyway?

"Uh-huh... "

"We'd better not make him late for his job. Say goodbye to Mr. Wormie, Cheese. There he goes!"

"Chao-o!"

She bid it a farewell curtsy, then asked in the ensuing insect chatter: "Mr. Sonic?"

"Yeah, Cream?"

"Do you think Mr. Wormie has a family?"

"If he does, let's leave 'em alone, okay?"

He turned, and a gray gypsy moth stuck a perfect landing on his nose. He may or may not have hollered so loud his shout echoed over the river and through the woods—and to Mrs. Rabbit's house we go.

Cream promised to keep the strange noise a secret, to her mother's slight confusion.