They don’t speak in words. They speak in ears.
One ear up means yes. Two means run.
A flick to the left means someone’s lying.
A full flatten? You don't want to know.
They appear suddenly – on picnic cloths, in forgotten drawers, under the red gingham of a bakery basket.
No one invites them. But no one asks them to leave.
They say Fluffletown once had a mayor.
Then one spring, all seven Earwigs flattened their ears at once.
No one’s run for office since.