(no subject)
I've been reading about the rearing of domestic silkworms. I don't want to start raising them, mind you; I find that idea repulsive (and, in all honesty, after reading about the worms I don't really ever want to wear anything that's come out of their ass, either). But I enjoy reading about things.
And then, on this website Wormspit.com (mmmmm worm spit...) I came across this passage. Which terrified me:
"I open the door, and I can hear them. The sound is only a soft, quiet pattering, like rain on the roof ... but I know what they're thinking. "Feed us. You must feed us. Bring the food here to us, now." They wave back and forth hypnotically, like tiny cobras - I have to obey.
One month each spring for three years now, the Tiny Masters have ruled my life. I wake early and stumble bleary-eyed out into the yard to fetch their food. I change their trays every other day, adjust the temperature and humidity in their room so that they will be content, fuss over them and attend to their needs. The main need is food. Every day, three times a day. For the fourth and final week, four times a day. They are always hungry, the Tiny Masters."