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Eating Worm

Page 3 of 6

A sharp pain in her side made Gravy groan. As she did, she twisted her body towards the source of the pain.

“Shit, man, this bitch is alive.”

“So whadda you care? You got her money. Le’s go.”

Two men had stolen her money and one kicked her, thinking her dead. Walking away from her, the one who kicked her said, “Yeah, but she got some fine tits. I could use a piece o’ that.”

Laughing, the other said, “Damn, you so desperate you gotta have that? Shit, I better tell Lacy that she ain’t puttin’ out enough for you.”

“Shit. That bitch? I don’t need none of that ugly pussy....”

Gravy still lay unconscious on the ground. In her head, she was flying off the swing set as the two thieves walked away from her prone body.


The most wonderful feeling in the world is to get someone to do what I want her to. My mom taught me that, and though she’s kinda fucked up, I know she’s right about this. There are all sorts of ways to get people to do what I want. The trick is to find out what works for each one.

If I take Gravy for example, she needs just the right amount of guilt with a little force thrown in. I can get her to go into the city to get us a week’s worth of dope whenever I want. All I have to do is tell her how strung out I am. Besides, she actually needs the dope. Not like me, I’ve got it under control. Every once in a while, I have to smack her when she puts the dope above me in her life. She loves me, not dope, so I have to use a little strength to remind her. I hope to get her to turn some tricks, because then we’ll really start making money. She’s pretty set against it now, but I know that she’ll do it soon, because she loves me.

I control my mom, too. When she wants me to sell stuff on the street, and I don’t feel like it, we’ll get into a huge fight. Then I’ll threaten to commit suicide, which freaks her out. She starts crying and run over to me, hugging me and weeping all over my face. I’ll press my head against her heaving chest and smile.

Sometimes, I have to actually go a little further with her. Today, she walked out as we were just starting to have a fight. She said she had to go to work and didn’t have time to argue with me today. Well, I have to show her who’s boss around her, so I overdosed on dope, timing it so that Gravy will see me turn blue when she gets back from Brooklyn. That’ll teach my mom. She’ll be sorry that she pushed me this far.


Gravy was soaring into the sun. She knew that she would be burnt by it, but she had no fear. The wind was whipping her long hair back, and she held her arms out to embrace the sun. She felt glorious. She heard the sun say, “It’s okay. You’ll be okay,” and she knew it to be true. The sun lifted her up and put her on a springy bed, crisp and white. She heard a bird sing a single, beautiful song that was sad, but filled with hope. Now the sun and the moon were busy dressing her for her appointment with God. They took off her dress, as it was tattered from her flight. “Don’t give up. C’mon. You’ve got a strong heart,” they said to her.

She wanted to tell them something, but couldn’t catch her breath. She began to worry that she wouldn’t be able to say anything ever again, and she panicked. What if she couldn’t talk to God? That wouldn’t be fair. But the sun told her that she wasn’t going to see God, today. Today wasn’t right. The sun helped her breath again, and she began to calm down. Relaxing, she listened to all the stars talk in their many hurried voices, some were sad, most were very busy. Gravy decided that it would probably be a good time to get some rest. She had a very busy day.

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January 2000 © Jonathan Russell

MacPhoenix: Creative: Stories

Read on: WebSpace | Lounge | Tech | Portal | Blog | Swag | About

Creative-Types: c  l  a  r  i  t  y | Jim | Jonathan | rich(e)rich | Scott

Projects: Lingua Shapta