Bob the Transformer
The heatwave had finally abated and I had focused my energy on getting ready for winter the day I met this most unpleasant client. Fall is always busy, with harvesting, freezing, and canning to do, of course. Winterizing the chicken coop and goat barn as well. So much to do, but I love all of it. Fall and winter on the mountain are my favorite. The colors, the cool air, the slow death of it all. It’s beautiful.
I had gone out to the garden to pick tomatoes and had come across a strange visitor. Some kind of caterpillar, but not like any I’ve seen before. Well not exactly. In form it was basically like an inchworm, with legs at both ends, but none in the middle. And it held on to a tomato stem with its hind legs, holding its body out like a twig, just like an inchworm does, although, its camouflage was lacking as the bug was sort of midnight blue.
Generally, I feed pests to the chickens, but here is where things went… awry. When I went to grab the thing, it bit me. Inchworms don’t bite. The bite was bad, too. Took a chunk out of my finger. I went inside and drank a Cure All just in case. Never can be too sure and this potion covers the basics, plus some outlier poisons and toxins I’ve come across more frequently than I’d like. I headed back outside better prepared, with gloves, a bug net, and a collection jar. Once the little monster was secure, I took it inside for closer inspection.
It was very angry.
It was hanging onto the twig I’d put in the jar and waving its body wildly at me. I needed a magnifying glass to get a good look at its mouth, it frothed pink as it worked its jaws, drooling blood. Very unpleasant little thing with very big teeth. I plopped a bit of raw chicken into its new home, it instantly forgot its fury and lunged at the meat, devouring it quickly. I gave the dogs a look as the now bloated thing seemed to curl up on the bottom of the jar for a nap. Leaving the jar, I’d just gone to my little library to look for a book on insect monsters when the dogs started barking and scratching at the door to get out.
I looked out the window, a very nondescript, middle aged fellow was making his way up the steps. A little pudgy, a lot of hair sort of sticking straight up off his head. Something was definitely not right about him. The caterpillar would have to wait. I settled the dogs down, they didn’t need to chase him off, just escort him and be on guard, and opened the door.