This morning a caterpillar emerged from a hole in the metal railing surrounding the terrace of my building. I was collecting the mail. He was having a bad hair day. There were bits of paper, pollen, and cigarette ash caught in his fuzz. That is when I realized that things to do with teeth are perfect for caterpillars. I imagined parting his hair with a toothpick or combing him with a toothbrush or tying his bristles into pigtails with floss. Then I imagined if I were an entomologist and that this was all part of my job. Professional Caterpillar Groomer, working nine to five within the dusty walls of some natural history museum ensuring that all caterpillars are presentable to the public until cacoonage calls.
Today’s mail was only a flimsy bank statement, perfect conditions for a flight of fancy.