CHAPTER 1
EMILIO
There’s a worm inside me. A vengeful, tequila-soaked demon of a worm. It’s moving around my guts. Rearranging shit in there. What if it inches toward my balls? They won’t work anymore. I won’t be able to fuck.
“Holy shit, no fucking? MAS, NO FUCKING! NO FUCKING, MAS!!!”
I slap my stomach to kill it through blunt force. My shrieking voice zaps my brain with pain.
“CAN YOU HEAR ME?”
Another zap.
I cringe and stop screaming.
The tile’s cold and sticky. With piss or vomit. I don’t know which. Plastered to the bathroom floor in my boxers and one sock. There’s pink glitter on my knee and dried queso in my hair. A fucking broken plastic tiara lies next to red lace panties.
Whose are those?
Last night is a fucking blank spot. I smell like shit. Reek of tequila, cheap perfume, and barbecue.
“MAS, DID I EAT BARBECUE?”
Another zap of pain in my brain when I scream. But only silence. No Mas. I squint at my chest, covered in lipstick kisses. A neon-pink slap bracelet with “Bitch squad” on it. I don’t remember which bitch, which squad, or whose kisses.
My head is fucking hammering. Split open. Down the middle with one eyeball and part of my nose and lips hanging to one side. My hands are smashed against my ears, holding each piece together. If I let go, it will fall off.
The worm wiggles.
Rumbles as it moves. My skin ripples from it. Twitches left, then right. I slap it over and over again. The sound echoes in the empty bathroom.
“I see you, cabrón,” I mutter, digging my index finger into my belly button. “You picked the wrong gut to haunt.”
“Emilio!” Massimo’s voice comes from above or below. Sideways even. “I’m cooking eggs to try and soak up all that alcohol.”
I hate eggs.
I hate alcohol.
I hate tequila worms.
Ignoring him, I push the door shut with my foot. Start rummaging. Drawer one. Q-tips and rubbers. Drawer two. Hair gel, more rubbers, and a nail file. Drawer three. A damn cocktail fork. Jackpot. I hold it up to the light like Excalibur.
“Massi! I’m doing it! I’m gonna dig it out! I SEE IT SWIMMING.”
I line it up with my belly button. The hole keeps moving every time I stare at it. The worm wiggles to the right, and I stab it. Suddenly, his eyes appear. Two little red dots pop up from my belly.
Staring at me.
Scaring me.
“MAS, I SEE HIM! HE’S LOOKING AT ME.”
The red eyes grow bigger. Wider and spreading. I move up, trying to get to my feet. His eyes shrink. Turning from circles to red lines. Chasing each other toward my underwear.
“MY BALLS MASSI! HE’S GOING FOR MY BALLS!”
A zap of pain in my head. I ignore it. Wanting to save my balls before my brain. Pounding footsteps and then the door flies open, hitting my shoulder.
