Chapter One - Delivery

We see a worm. A worm shrouded in darkness, accompanied only by other worms. Hearing only the blaring burn of rubber against the road, along with the bumping of boxes in a confined space. This worm is confined within plastic. Plastic shared between it and another one of its kind.

Uncertainty and confusion clouds the worm's mind. These emotions soon followed by impatience. Impatience followed by anger. It is aware that the other worms have reached serenity, or acceptance. It has not. This worm is trapped, both literally and figuratively. That is until what this worm is being held in stops. Abruptly. Carelessly. Unintentionally. All the worm knows is that it's torment has stopped.

The packaging, though clashing against other packaging alike this entire time, falls a length previously foreign to the worm. Though alarming, the worry is topped by what the worm can only describe as exhilarating. The fall breaks open the box, allowing the worm to see for the first time.

It sees colors. Shapes. Movement. It all slowly forms recognizable images. The images form into a visual perception of what's happening. As the details quickly show themselves, it sees what's happened. What's happening. Thousands of worms hold up the front of a truck like waves hoisting up a ship. Technicolored squirmles band together, more flowing in from the streets to assist. The moment seems stuck in time, a painting to capture either a tragedy or a revolution. Maybe even both. As the worms gather, the rainbow hoard grows. The worm can't help but silently cheer.

The worm notices a man in the driver's seat, trying to quickly escape through the window. That is the first mistake. Worms from the top of the pile flood into the window, gradually filling up the truck from the inside. The man is trapped by layers of squirmles, blocking even the light. Ten of thousands engage in the anarchy now.

The worms only keep arriving. The inside and front of the truck are nearly completely concealed by worms, all banding together in total disarray. Screams are muffled by squirmle fluff. The truck tilts further and further, and the flip becomes an inevitability. Then it does. A deafening crash pours over the worms, followed by absolute silence. The worm battle is won. Our worm processes this for a while, still unable to fully grasp what has happened. It is unknown whether this is good or bad to the worm. Full silence remains.