There once was a worm called George, who spent all his time burrowing through earth, day in day out, squirming through all types and standards of the muddiest of soil.
George wasn't the normal kind of worm. He was a worm with aspirations. Big ones.
Once, he had been pulled out of the earth by a young inexperienced blackbird. he was a good wriggler, was George, one of the best. One good wriggle and he was free from the orange beak.
But all he could think of afterwards was not how lucky he was to have escaped being eaten (as one might have expected) but of the World outside and what it felt like to be in the air.
George wanted more than anything to be able to fly.