I just thought of this, randomly. I classed this story under 'Humour', but personally I think it has a slightly sad element about it. Or maybe that's just me. Anyway, read and enjoy.
Disclaimer: None of the following were my idea: Flobberworms, Hagrid, Hagrid's pumpkin patch. The credit all goes to J.K. Rowling.
It's not much fun being a Flobberworm. Eat, sleep, wriggle. Eat, sleep, wriggle. On and on, day after day, until life becomes even more monotonous and dull. All I get to eat is lettuce, poked down my throat by inexperienced schoolchildren. I don't even like lettuce. I think I'm allergic to it. Give me a good cucumber any day. Oh, to taste that glorious cucumber just once more… Once more before my short and horrible life comes to an end.
That's another disadvantage, of being a Flobberworm. Nobody could give a fig whether we live or not. We don't get a grave, or a memorial - not even a minute's silence. We're just buried in mass graves, in Hagrid's pumpkin patch. A free source of fertiliser. I don't know what they'd put on a grave, anyway. Rest In Peace, Flobberworm Number 2,664? We're so unimportant that we don't even have names. Right at the bottom of the pecking order.
If I did have a name, I think I'd like to be called Basil. Basil the Flobberworm. Yes, I do like the sound of that. And I could call all of my sisters Martha. Mind you, I have about three hundred sisters.
I'd like to be somebody's pet Flobberworm. That way I'd have a name, and maybe even be looked after. Or at least noticed. If they were really kind, they could buy me a collar. I think red would suit me. Or, I'd like to be in a circus. Basil the Amazing Flobberworm! Roll up, roll up! And then one of those humans could write my name in green smoke in the air, with his thingamajig. Wand. And I could perform tricks, or even shoot out of a cannon! I can imagine it now. The cheering crowds… the incredible feeling of flying… and the splat as I hit the ground.
Oh, who am I kidding? I'm just a Flobberworm. An insignificant, boring little Flobberworm. The greatest feat I'll ever achieve is not bursting from being force-fed too many pieces of lettuce.
Oh, oh, something's happening. Yay, highlight of the day. Being fed yet more wonderful, wonderful lettuce. That was my attempt at sarcasm, by the way. You'll probably never hear from me again, I'll be pumpkin food soon enough. Goodbye, the world in which I have lived my life. What is the name of my world, anyway? Ah, yes. Greenhouse 2.
So, what did you think? Review... please? )
-Featherz