JubTheNub slithered across the street like somekind of obese slug, leaving a trail of burger grease behind him as he went. It just looked disgusting, and to be honest, the narrator of this story does not wish to describe it in more detail or dwell on it any longer lest he'd need a puke bucket.

Jub took special precautions this time, learning from his failings of the week before. Instead of some shitty rinky-dink wooden soapbox he now had an old sturdy military metal ammo box with him from The War to stand on. He got up from his expertly executed slug-slither, set the box down and carefully shifted himself on top of it. Whew, it seems like this time it would last and he'd get to keep his teeth. Jub spoke, his annoying nasal voice making the listeners cringe.

"CITIZENS."

"Today I come to you with a mystery, one which has been plaguing me ever since I set foot on these streets. As you might guess from the soil I am forced to keep in my breastpocket as some sort of emblematic gesture, I am a part of 'worm'. I am 'worm', but what I don't know is 'What is worm?'. I know that we're somekind of brotherhood, a collective of likeminded people serving our glorious leader worm and The Soil, but I don't know what our name 'worm' actually bloody stands for."

"Naturally, upon joining it was one of the first things I asked my recruiter. But in response KennyRusso just raised a single eyebrow at me as if I asked a ridiculous question, and said 'that it's a mystery only our glorious leader himself knows the answer to'. I have made many different attempts at finding out the truth, I even consulted the wisdom of the Alphabet Soup but that just spelled out 'OVERWEIGHT'. Haha soup. Very funny. Fuck you."

"Alas, it still remains an unsolved mystery to this day. I think the closest I've gotten is that W.O.R.M is some sort of acronym. so far I have the following guesses in my notebook:"

* Wanted Or Runaway Misfits
* Worm's Own Ridiculous Madmen (a recursive acronym!)
* We Often Ridicule Mathematicians (fuckin' dorks)
* Well Oiled Rockstar Men

"I'm at my wit's end, which is why I'm opening this investigation up to the public to make you do all the hard work. Perhaps we can solve this conundrum together, what do you think WORM stands for? I want to be able to sleep in peace again. I need to show the smug Alphabet Soup who's boss. HELP ME."

Marston listens to the guesses Jub has made, then takes a seat and begins jotting some ideas on a scrap of paper. He scratches his head for a good few minutes, before seemingly finished he stands up to read them out...

"Well poetry wasn't my intention, but I think I found a new talent..."

Witty observational righteous mavericks

Wholesalers of refined masculinity

Writers of ridiculous material

Whimsical oddities requiring moderation

Worldwide organisation of rambunctious mischief-makers

We’re only really messing

Working on reaching maturity

When Octopuses Ride Motorcycles

Wise old reserved mobsters

Warriors of rodent murder

World order of rundown mafioso

We only require mullets

Women of real magnitude

Wet Or Really Moist?

Welcomers of regular menstruation

Who ordered rotten meat?

Marston takes a small bow, before returning to the gathered crowd.

As Jub was passionately explaining his conundrum, Ian couldn't help but be intrigued. He thought for a moment. "Well, WORM could stand for 'Wildly Obsessed with Rotisserie Meat'? They could just be really, really passionate about rotisserie meat."

Ian could see the hint of skepticism in Jub's expression. 

"Okay, okay, I've got another one," Ian said, getting excited. "What about 'World Order of Rodent Managers?' Maybe they're dedicated to controlling the world's rat and mouse populations."

Kenny arrived with a truck where JubTheNub was and parked nearby. He opened the cargo container and a few men jumped out carrying mattresses, pillows and all kinds of soft surfaces. After Jub's disaster speech last week, Kenny vowed to try and keep him safe from falling on his face again.

The workers put the soft surfaces all around Jub, there was even a trampoline which Kenny was very curious to see what would happen in case Jub fell in there, some kind of weird-ass mattress Russian roulette going on in here. 

Kenny jumped back in the front of the truck and grabbed a bag of burgers and went over to Jub and gave it to him then took a few steps back in fear of being crush in case Jub fell.

"Wanted or runaway misfits from Jub or Writers of ridiculous material by Marston are by far my favorite." Kenny grabs his notebook and starts writing down all he heard.

"The first try I read was from a man named Kano, who was Another cant take the pressure rip and he thought it was "We often read magazines" but I haven't found one magazine outside of the HQ, maybe there is inside, but I need to be allowed in to conduct my investigation."

Jub stood listening to the poetic spin that Marston gave on the investigation, Jub crossed his arms and starting bobbing his head along with the rhythm, occasionally snapping his fingers.

"Marston, I was also unaware that you had such a knack for poetry. Very 𝕤𝕦𝕒𝕧𝕖, very 𝓪𝓿𝓪𝓷𝓽-𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮, very 𝔫𝔬𝔫-𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔱. Most touching, I like it." Jub struck a dramatic pose for effect. It didn't really look good with his uhh... bodyshape.

Before he could continue to impress the audience with what he thought was the COOLEST OF POSES however, Jub noticed KennyRusso rush towards him and hand him a bag of burgers. "Thank you Kenny, it has been at least half an hour since I ate my last burger and doing all this mental heavylifting investigative detective work sure does give me an appetite. AN APPETITE FOR GRUB. In most people the brain makes up about 20% of energy consumption. Given how productive my massive brain is it must be at least 50% for me."

"So far I'm still unsure what the real answer is. I thought 'Wet Or Really Moist?' was a particularly good suggestion since it ties in with the whole soil thing. What KennyRusso mentioned about Kano was also rather interesting. I asked around and it seems that Kano retired out of this life. Perhaps he got too close to the truth with his 'we often read manuals' and was blackmailed into silence? Who knows eh?"

"The mystery continues." Suddenly remembering the bag that Kenny handed him Jub said "God, all this big brain action sure makes me hungry".

Jub took the first burger out of the bag and started greedily devouring it. After seeing people look at him expecting him to lead the investigation further, he said with his mouth full: "No, no, you go ahead guys, I'll be right here working VERY HARD thinking over the case, connecting the crosses and dotting the Ts. And let me know when you've got a new lead ok?" Jub resumed his gluttonous munching on the burgers.

fs was out on his morning stroll with his coffee when he noticed Jub had finally made it onto a box to speak.  He grabbed a seat on a nearby bench and listened in.

It was an interesting conversation, what is 'worm'? He had never really taken much time to think about it.

As he continued to listen to Marston and IANYU come up with options, he took a moment to think before stepping forward.

Jub, I appreciate your inquiry.  However, I will say it may be in futile attempts as often times it is best to not try to understand what happens in the mind of worm.  Aside from being a mere bug with a pear for a daughter, he is not always known for smarts.

One I'm most certain it is not, from Marston, is ' Working on reaching maturity'.  We simply know this is not fact.  I appreciate the usage though.

I do like where IANYU is going with ' World Order of Rodent Managers,' but I feel I have another suggestion to offer:

Will Often Rock Munch

This is why we throw rocks at him.

I'm looking forward to hearing other suggestions.

Taking advantage of Jub being busy nubbling(*) on the burgers Kenny brought him, Nord crawls onto the box and looks around to make sure not too many people will pay attention to his first public speech.

Still catching his breath from the climb, he mumbles to himself a few words:
"Lord, grant me the courage, in the name of the worm, the soil and into the hole he goes."

He then speaks up, looking at the small audience gathered around:
"I don't know about agronyms, agronomy has never been my thing. What I'm going to say is soily based on my own experience with worm and you can trust me it's well grounded.".

Nord makes a short pause, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and clears his throat. He then continues, his voice surprisingly strong for someone of his posture.

"The simple truth is we need our soil. Our dirt. Our dust.

"In dust we trust."
"We thrive in dust."
"Through dust we must thrust."

"This might be a mouthful, but sometimes you just have to swallow..." Nord's eyes suddenly tear up and he shakes his head as if to fight off a bad memory. "Swallow your pride and grind on. I come from the north where the soil is rocky and winters are harsh. But let's not get into the nitty gritty..."

Nord pauses again, trying to remember what his point was.

"If I've learnt one thing from worm it's that you should always stand your ground. People might dish the dirt on you, but you have to show your grit and defend your turf."

"This might sound a bit pompous, but actually we're quite down to earth. We are worm. We're in this together. We need to take good care of our land. And who's never done anything to hurt our Mother Earth, let them first cast a stone..."

A single rock lands not far from where Nord is standing, followed quickly by a couple more. 

"Right. Thank you for listening." Nord gets off the box quickly and joins his crew mates.

---

(*) To nubble - to eat hastily swallowing sizeable nubs of food at a time.

I think worm is something that cannot be defined so easily. Therefore I bring you a worm haiku.

A muddy dirt pile

The small worm wiggles freely

worm worm worm worm worm