Compost is always a matter of sorrow, the gardener said, shaking his head over the undigested melon peels which the worms refused to devour. The wrong temperature, the wrong humidity, and it turns into a mess of fermentation that bears no wine, no matter how much one may whine about it. Gardening is an art, after all, as much as it is an exercise in mud, and really millipedes are not 'bugs' but the most ancient form of crustacean, an older form than anything else we are likely to encounter. There is a moral in this story somewhere, but, alas, you will not find it.

Millipede

How does a millipede know which leg to put down first when he gets out of bed in the morning, and then which to pick up after he has removed his pyjamas? Does he have trouble with his duvet? Can a millipede do hand-stands? Are all of his feet the same size or even the same width or are some As and Bs and some double Ds? Such an inconvenience. Does he wear out the insides or the outsides of the soles? Can he get 501s with so many legs? If he took up tap-dancing, could he get all of his time steps in time?