My Dad had a deep, gravely voice and so when he used to tell me that I was destined for greatness I believed him. Actually, he was even more specific. He said that the fate of the world could very well rest on my able shoulders. Now, that’s not an easy thing to live up to, especially given my size and the fact that I am slave to my instincts. But, to be fair, aren’t we all? The cold compost heap that I had consigned my family to throughout the long and insufferable winter dampened our spirits and our disposition. When spring finally broke, I was determined to find us a more snug habitation for the coming winter. That’s a hard thought to hang onto all summer long, but I did. I found us a place where a nest of hard material, a bit like my favorite, fallen branches, held in the heat. It seemed like paradise. No family members went missing. Food was plentiful. One of my more clever offspring discovered first the garbage, then the cafeteria. Bonanza! The problem is we need to chew. We must. Otherwise our teeth grow into our brains and we die. Having nothing else to chew on we started gnawing on what I thought were twigs but had energy running through them. And so we chewed. And chewed. The last thing I remember was a brief flash of sunshine and then darkness.