Headless Joy: Lose a Head. Gain a Perspective.

As we do not have images of a decapitated ribbon-worm, we have to use our imagination.

A tiny ribbon-worm named Linus, who lived underwater in a crevice in a rock, suddenly realized his head was missing. “Dang!” he said, looking around. “Where is my HEAD?”

His neck felt light and cold. Linus wanted to check, but that was a stupid thing to try to do, as you can see, as he could not see. He needed his eyes to do the 'seeing'.  Linus tried to arch his neck, turn his head to one side. He couldn't do it. It was because he had no head.

“Dang, DANG!” Linus said again. “If I have no head, how will I eat? See? TUBBY! Are you there? Where are you? Come out at once! Tell me if you notice anything strange about me.”

Tubby, Linus’ best friend, emerged from under a rock, where Linus too had his home.

“What is it?” Tubby said, yawning and glancing around for something to eat.

“See anything funny?” Linus asked.

“Funny where?” Tubby said. “Funny how?”

“ME!” Linus yelled. “LOOK. AT. ME. TUBBY."

“Oh, my god!” Tubby shrieked. “Did someone step on your head? Eat it? It’s gone.”

“What do you mean ‘it’s GONE’?” Linus said, irritated. “Heads do not go hither and yon. If my body is here, my head must be here too. Swish the water. Part the grass. Find my head.”

“It’s not here,” Tubby said, after frantic searching.

“Look again!” Linus yelled. “My life depends on it.”

“It’s NOT here!” Tubby yelled back. “How could you do this? Lose your head?” Tubby dove into his hideout, scared he could lose his head. “This is the stuff of nightmares.”

“This is most upsetting,” Linus said, feeling dejected. Tubby was right. It was rather careless of him. He wouldn’t have minded losing his tail, but head? That had all the organs he valued – his brain most of all. “Yet,” Linus thought. “If I have no head, how am I alive and thinking?”

For the next few days, Linus stayed in his burrow. With no head, however, he felt calmer. He felt less scattered, less anxious. He didn't feel depressed he was such a lowly ribbon worm, with not a redeeming quality, a creature no one thought of, nor appreciated, nor admired. He didn't worry about others or what others thought. He didn’t worry that he was ugly.

Five days later, as he was getting used to his headless life, he saw a faint glimmer of light. 

“Tubby!” Linus said, swimming out of his crevice. “Look at me again. What do you see?”

“Well,” Tubby said, after a moment's silence. “I had heard such a thing was possible for us, ribbon worms, but didn't believe it. You proved it. You grew yourself a new head, Linus!"

"Dang, DANG!" Linus said. "That's great, I know. But I rather enjoyed my headless life."