Greetings, earthlings. God here. What, you were expectin’ E-frickin-T? Sorry chimps–I mean, chumps–ah, what’s the difference. Chimps-chumps: you limbed types bore Me. As a designer, you humans are not My proudest moment, and that’s putting it lightly. The designs I love most are the designs I keep around–like jellyfish and worms. Especially the worms–ah, how Yahweh loves His worms. And I think you’ll agree with Me after you get to know the remarkable beauty that is the spiny-headed parasitic worm, Pomphorhynchus laevis. That photo you see above? That’s one of the cute little bugger’s proboscises, with backwards hooks and thorns, which the worm uses to hook itself into the intestinal wall of its host. You humans use knives and forks to eat; My lovely pomphorhynchus laevis uses these hooks to latch onto the intestinal walls of a freshwater fish, pierce the intestine so’s to make eating the fishie a little easier and more comfy for My Chosen Worms. Gorgeous, ain’t it? Here, look at a close-up:

I’m gettin’ Stendhal Syndrome just looking at that gorgeous contraption, imagining it latched into an intestinal wall, lapping up a fish-host’s blood. Now, look at the basic design of this worm, from My workshop:

I dare anyone to compare that boring Mona Lisa thingamajig to my spiny-headed worm: a real work of art. Now, compare that mock-up above to the real-thing below, after I put it into full production:

Yeah, I’m thinkin’ of suing the Middle Ages for copyright theft–where do you think they got that whole mace idea from? Yours truly. But you humans don’t know weaponry like Yahweh does.

See, my pomphorhynchus laevis also knows how to carjack and steer other creatures around the stream, joyriding them like they’re someone’s parent’s Chrysler, crashing them into a Drive-Thru fast food joint called “a fish,” and feasting on the new host’s guts. I’ll explain.

When the spiny-headed worm is but a pup, daintily floating in a freshwater stream, it finds its way into the intestinal tract of a shrimp-like crustacean known as an amphipod. The spiny-headed worm spends his youth in the amphipod’s guts, lapping away and devouring its way through a blissful parasitic childhood. But as it gets bigger and fattens up, the amphipod no longer suits my worm–so he hot-wires the shrimp’s sense of smell so that rather than fleeing from predatory fish that eat it, the amphipod actually swims towards its predators. The worm also trip-wires the amphipod’s pigmentation to make it more visible. And, most brilliant of all, it convinces the amphipod to go out for a big swim in the middle of the day, when all the other uninfected amphipods usually hide–because that’s when the predatory fish are out in force. Here’s what the teenaged spiny-headed worms look like while they’re steering their crappy amphipods towards a fish:

So, along comes a blue fish, and bam! The spiny-headed worm crashes the amphipod host straight into the blue-fish’s mouth. Why? Jeez, you humans are soooo stupid! Because the blue-fish has lots more guts and blood to chew on. And it’s much roomier, so the spiny-headed worm can raise an entire extended family in the fish. Like this:

Awww, ain’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life? All those little spiny-headed worms feeding away on a deee-licious intestinal wall? It just melts My heart, I tell ya! And dang if it doesn’t make My stomach growl with hunger! M’m-m’m! That picture above is all thanks to Me, by the way–that’s My design. Don’t tell Me that God doesn’t know how to design beautiful things in this world.

Read more: parasite, Pomphorhynchus laevis, spiny-headed worm, Yahweh, What You Should Hate

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