I Eat Worms

I Eat Worms

Springfield High School

Steven Stefani Dance Marathon

Springfield, PA

Spring 2004

I run on the mouth, a consistent weakness I have.  Too frequently, I say things in a grandiose way to make a point. I may not necessarily mean everything I say but at the moment, there is a hint of truth to what I say, it’s just grossly embellished. 

So I am the principal of a high school and my students are going to host a big fundraiser for childhood cancer.  A noble cause deserves everyone’s help.  My students want me to participate in the faculty challenge.  Maybe I could hoola hoop for a few minutes.  Or dance with one of the stodgy, old male teachers or something else on the benign side.

 But I got caught up on the moment and too bad it is live on the students’ TV channel because I blurt out, “Both of my parents died of cancer.  I would do anything to help find cure for cancer.  I’d even eat live worms if that’s what it would take to raise money.”  DAMN, DAMN, DAMN.  It just came out in the spirit of the moment and there is no turning back.

I challenge the kids to raise $500 in my name and I would eat a live worm.  At lunch that day, they raise $800 and they are gleeful in this noble victory.  Now I am annoyed at me for underestimating how much I could have risen.  To make matters, worse, I am locked in to this commitment, to my promise.

Someone told me I should buy some mealworms, as they are edible.  It didn’t occur to me that there are different kinds of worms and some are not edible. So my search began. I go to a few fish bait stores but have no luck as it is late February and fishing season had not started yet.  But the store clerks get behind my problem and call all over until they find one store with just a few worms. I buy my package of 10 worms for $2 and bring them to school.  I was told to keep them in the refrigerator until my event, which was two weeks away. And so they rest on the middle shelf of the faculty refrigerator for all to see.

The thought of watching their principal eat a live worm proved to be  more than the students could bear.  That’s all they want to discuss with me.

“Are you afraid? I would be afraid to eat a worm,” says one little girl who has never maintained eye contact with me.

“I bet you 5 bucks that you don’t really do It.,” says one of my tough guys.

“I wouldn’t do it.  I don’t care how much money you paid me,” seemed to be the most frequent response.

“Are you going to cook it first and then eat it live?” said another not too bright student.

I am in class one day, observing a Chemistry teacher.  He is just finishing up the lesson and asked the class, “OK, any question?”

A hand quickly shot up.

“Danny, what is it,” asked the teacher.

Danny turns around and looks right at me and asked, “Are you just going to eat a gummy worm at the last minute. That’s what I would do if I was you.” The class laughs with an uproar and agrees with him and I am incredulous.

“No, of course not,” I tell them.  “I have made a commitment to you and I intend to honor it.  A deal’s a deal.”  Now I am uppity with integrity until it sinks in that the kid gave me an out and I didn’t take it.  IDIOT WITH STUBBORN INTERGRITY!!!

For the next week, I stand in the hallway, between classes and show students the worms.  I take a worm out of the container and it clings on to my finger with a grip that skives me.

Shawn, a junior, looks at the worm one day and announces, “I don’t want to say anything Dr. Kelly but that thing is growing.  By next week, it should be another three or four inches”.  I am grossed out by that thought.

The day arrives and my student attendance rate is at an all time high for the year. Everyone wants to see me eat this damn worm. I am trying not to think about it but Jaye comes charging in my office and laughs in my face.  “So, you ready to do anything to find the cure for cancer.”  She can’t stop laughing and I want to kick her for reminding me of my own damn flaws.

The moment arrives and I go into the gym where 1200 students, 100 staff members, a few kids with cancer and a handful of new reporters are here to cover the story.

I start by eating a few other gross things.  I went to Chinatown two days before and found a few things that could be viewed as offensive to the palate. I pull out a piece of cooked cow stomach. I asked my biology teacher to tells the students what is the function of the stomach and in graphic, gross detail, he gives a narrative of the digestion process.  I hold the piece of meat up for everyone to see and as the live feed video camera zooms in on me, my hand has a small spasm, just slight enough to appear as if the meat moved, not my hand.  This brings gasps of horror from everyone.  I chew on the meat and challenge three male teacher to join me but only if kids donate more money.  We raise another $100.  The teachers are willing but still grossed out so they opt to swallow their piece.  All three of them regurgitate and the crowd goes wild with laughter, repulsion and admiration for me.

I eat fish intestine and then move on to long slimy, jellyfish. Again, the biology teacher gives a detailed description of the function of these organs.  Fortunately, I was too pre-occupied to listen.

Then the big moment arrived. The kids had enjoyed watching the lesbian teacher come out in a dress and make-up.  The science teacher who broke a concrete block with his head was well received.  And the kids cheered when one teacher agreed to shave his head into a Mohawk cut.  But all of this paled next to the potential to see me eat a live worm.

I take a worm out of the container and hold it up to the video camera.  Everyone can see it move.  I put it back on my hands and let it inch up my finger.  I look in front of me and there are 15 people lined up with cameras, ready to take the shot. I am sweating.  I want to kick myself because there is not turning back.  I have to do this and I have to do it right now.

I hear yells, from the crowd.

 “Are you really going to eat it.”

“Just eat it.”

“Don’t eat it”.

“Gross.

“This is way too cool.”

“Can I try that after you.”

I ask someone to open a bottle of water for me and I hold the bottle in my hand.  As soon as that worm goes in my mouth, I am going to wash it down as quickly as possible. I start a countdown in my head.  I hold the worm up and dangle it a little bit and then I drop it in my mouth, whole. I can feel it on my tongue and then I swallow and take a big, big sip of water. 

The crowd cheers and hoots and hollows. There is wild clapping and people are patting me on the back and then there is a tap on my shoulder.  It is the reporter from the Springfield Press, the local newspaper. “I didn’t get the shot”, she tells me apologetically. She shrugs her shoulders and asks, “Could you do it again, please?”

I can’t believe it. Now there is silence again because people can see there is some sort of problem. I want to throw up.  But this paper gives us so much good press that I don’t really have any other choice. I have to help her out.  So I pick up another damn worm, open my mouth, drop it in and swallow the last worm I will ever eat.