Conversation With A Worm

Hi. I am alone. It’s dark in here. Where shall I begin? Are you comfortable? Well, I died in 1991.
I never got to see the Spice Girls live and heaven knows what happened to my CRUISE!
Well, life It was good if you count all the nutters I had the acquaintance of knowing. Vainglorious
petty, too intelligent for their own good, scatty brained monsters of the sort you find in the thriller
movies hacking bits off unsuspecting victims part of a lifelong orgy of bloodlust and domination.

over humans.
Sorry I got nostalgic for 1991 there! It was a good year for potatoes too!
So, I’m dead. Funny it’s not as terminal as I had expected unless you count being buried six foot under
with nobody for company except you and you don’t talk too much. Don’t worry anything you say will embarrass me
to death! I’m already embarrassed. Fuck! I can’t even talk to a worm. Is it my self-esteem still? Or are you a large personality
? Hi Mr Worm with God-like powers! Hi, My name is Andrew Watkins Esquire. Dead as a hedge. With orange hair.
No green! Green hair with orange polka dots. and yellow streamers. Oh, those days! I used to go to a park when I was younger
and we would see swans geese and ducks children would run about and people would stand around a talk while the youngsters played
in sand pits. Some people fished. And I walked along wearing a sunhat. SPF 50!

Are you getting hungry? I am. perhaps I could eat my arm? I’ll chew on this brass handle instead. It lasts for ages I can tell you. Like a gobstopper,
it is I can tell you. I was talking to myself there. Worm? Worm? I can’t feel you. Say something. I thought I just felt a truck go by. A fourteen wheeler
y’know? I chose this place because it’s on the road. Didn’t want to get bored KWIM? KWIM? (you’re a useless conversationalist) Too late. let’s play truth or dare!
Whats the worst thing you have ever done? Ever eaten a worm?
I must have dozed off there. Why is it so DARK! I got spooked again. This is death. Screw this. I hate this coffin. I hate this life. I hate being alive. I am supposed to
be dead and unaware. Why am I thinking like this? Where is my mind? Who am I? Who are you? What are we?
Hi back again! I, no YOU worm are a rugged conversationalist? You never get bored. You never cough or walk off to make a drink or bugger off completely. You are probably
the second most bestest friend I have ever had.Next to me. Next to my dad.

Oh, Sob I’ll never see him again. No what about heaven? Will I ever get there? This is hell. Hell level unknown. Level 2 Pay at the Door. Well, you can have ALL my money mother fucker!
I have been so up myself recently giving everything a moral value and insisting that everything was wise in hindsight if you know what I mean. Like I was clever and made good choices. I mean
I ended up here alone except there’s no wife to chow down on a brass handle with and nano worms where my eyes used to be. Fuck! I can’t even DIE properly. The Egyptians had the right idea
Burry all your mates with you (servants and gold) plenty to chat with and chew on. I wonder if gold tastes better than BRASS? Where is the internet when you need it?

WORM! WORM! GET ME THE INTERNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!

Oh, God. I am still scared of dying! It’s like Groundhog day ever decreasing circles (Seventies sitcom) Worm Can you make a cocktail? I’ll have stiff wicket which is Pimms and Guinness OK
Cold meats! Ham! Picalilli! Beetroot! Pork, Beef, Chicken!. God, we are not going OUT! Worm, grab yourself a plate!.

That WAS nice!Worm. I’m going to have a nap now. CUL8R!

5 am

It’s 5 am and the Ice Truckers are on the Ice road carrying oversized tyres. A pedipalp of emotions runs through your cerebrum. Tyres? Ice? Danger? DANGER? I’d rather Starbucks Hot Chocolate thank you. It’s seven am and there is a familiar certainty to the state of the world and the flow. of humanity. of different clothes wearing different bodies going separate places. Quietly and without a fuss. Like its all part of some divine plan. In an office, someone is cutting out paper people and putting them on top of buildings where somebody else will glue or staple them to till its time for another change.Them moments of recollection suppressed by newspapers offering you relief to buy happiness  and tv to see after dinner. On a schedule just like you. Begonias. grass. Cans of pop. It’s little it’s a lot. Chocolate bars at dawn. Eating muffins for breakfast. Strawberry scones for lunch or elevenses. Or a trip out to cholesterol heaven and a full English in a roll gets you drooling. what happened to work? new suit and IT guy. Office culture in a bun. Hum. It’s boring. Learning. A way to payday. A vision of rising at ten or later and making a bacon sandwich dripping with grease. Fried eggs. Mushrooms. Sausages. Beans. It’s better than it seems. It always is. Until you’re dead.