The Worries of Krumpleoakes

There was once a giant by name of Krumpleoakes.  Now Krumpleoakes was not a true giant by yours or my standards.  He was, rather, only relatively speaking a giant, for the universe in which he lived was very, very small.  

It was so small, in fact, that he could reach up his great big arm and bang his fist upon it, very much like your tallest relative might do upon the ceiling of your house.  This pleased Krumpleoakes exceedingly, and he often walked around his minuscule planet (which was about a mile in circumference) happily knocking his fist on the edge of the universe, thinking to himself how very special he was.

For you see, Krumpleoakes's line of thought went like this: because the universe was so, so very small and he so, so very large in it, he must be unbelievably important.  He did live, after all, dead centre in a very tiny universe.  Krumpleoakes felt so good about this.

But, one day, a teeny tiny worry popped into Krumpleoakes's giant brain.  

You may have wondered, and so did Krumpleoakes, whether he was alone on his teeny tiny planet in his teeny tiny universe: to the best of his knowledge, he was, indeed!  In his entire history, Krumpleoakes had never, ever encountered another living, breathing body in his world.  This used to make Krumpleoakes feel extra  special -- the only one on his tiny planet in his tiny universe.

But on the day the worry sprang up in his big giant brain, Krumpleoakes felt very differently about his solitude.

What if, he thought, seeing as I am the only Krumpleoakes to ever, ever, in the history of Krumpleoakeses, bang my fist upon the edges of the universe, what if that means I am only an accidental giant, who just so happened to appear by chance in this place?

He was worried, you understand, that he had no special reason for being there in his universe.

It might sound silly to you, but poor Krumpleoakes was truly put out by this new worry of his.  He spent days upon days walking around and around his tiny planet, beating his fist upon the universe all the while.

And then, a most remarkable thing happened -- remarkable to you or me but nigh incredible to poor, lonely Krumpleoakes.  He met another living, breathing body.  He met, to be precise, an earthworm.

It made sense, by the way, that this other creature in Krumpleoakes's universe would be an earthworm.  Had she been a giantess, Krumpleoakes surely would have known about her, on account of her size, for as we have discussed, Krumpleoakes's planet was very, very tiny.  On the day that Krumpleoakes met the earthworm, who usually escaped his notice because of her habit of hiding in the ground, it just so happened to have rained that morning -- and, as we all know, after a good rain, it is much easier to find an earthworm.

'HULLO!' boomed Krumpleoakes, once he had overcome the terrible shock of meeting another being.  The earthworm looked up, up, up, so very far up into the large looming face of Krumpleoakes the giant.  She seemed, however, not at all surprised to meet another being.

'Hullo!' she piped back.  And so began their conversation, which went on for some time.  Krumpleoakes had, in order to hear her properly, to lie down flat on the ground and place his ear quite close to the ground.  Her name, as he learned, was Tubuts, and she was, as he observed, very, very small.  She was, he thought, just as small as he was large.

But how, he wanted to know, did Tubuts know that she was important, being so very, very small?

Much to Krumpleoakes's surprise, Tubuts laughed a teeny tiny little laugh.  'How big you are,' she said to him, 'does not tell you how important you are.  For example, I, being very small, nevertheless have a very important job to do.  I take care of the earth.'

Krumpleoakes thought this over for a few moments, trying valiantly to wrap his giant brain around it.  But suddenly, another concern flashed across his mind: How, he wanted to know, could Tubuts feel special in such a large universe?  For it occurred to him, just then, that, although the universe was very small for him, being a giant, for her, being an earthworm, it was very vast indeed.

But again, Tubuts just laughed.  'Yes,' she agreed, 'the universe is so very big and I so very small.  But this is how it must be, if there is to be room for the other important things and beings.  Although I am important, I am not the only important one here.'

And this last comment brought to Krumpleoakes's mind his third and final worry.  That very same day, before he had met Tubuts, he had been worried that he, being all alone, was not significant.  Now, the opposite worry took root in his giant brain.  Seeing as she was not the only one on the planet in the universe, he wanted to know, how did Tubuts know that she was special?

At this last question, Tubuts did not laugh.  Instead, she looked very seriously up, up, up, so very far up into Krumpleoakes's eyes.

'Krumpleoakes,' she said, very solemnly, 'let me tell you a secret.  It is a secret we earthworms know very well, being so small and numerous and down to earth.  It is not your size that makes you important.  Being able to stride around the planet beating your fist on the edge of the universe does not make you very special.  There is only one thing that makes a being truly special, only one thing in the whole universe.'

Krumpleoakes the giant leaned in, pressing his ear as close to the ground as he possibly could.

Tubuts sighed.  'Krumpleoakes,' she said, 'being special is not important, and being important is not special.  It is much, much better to be loved, and being loved is the only way to become truly important and truly special.  And there must be more than one of us if we are to love one another.'

A great giant tear rolled down off of Krumpleoakes's nose and splashed on the ground.  'How,' he remarked, 'can such a little, tiny earthworm brain think such great-big, kindly thoughts?'

And Krumpleoakes the giant and Tubuts the earthworm were friends for many years afterwards, until the end of their days on their planet in their universe.