There’s nothing.
No answer, just silence. He’s useless, and I need backup.
“Is your brother there?” Hollister asks.
I whip around too fast. The floor tilts. I knock a chair over with my knee. Metal clatters across the floor.
“MASSSSSIMO!” I roar toward the room. “Holli’s on the phone! He can’t see the worm. But it’s moving inside my tummy, I can feel it. It’s ‘cuz I’m dead. I’m dead, Brother. Me and Jesus. Wait, why are you in Heaven with us? Are you dead too? Did we both die?”
He tackles me to the floor. We crash into the side table. Knocking over a lamp. He curses at me and lies on top of me. Reaching and wrestling to get the phone out of my hand, above my head. His tan eyes, the same as mine, merge into one. A fat cyclops, lying on my chest.
I start laughing.
Can’t stop.
His forearm shoves into my chest, pushing off me. My ribs hurt. He groans and stumbles back toward the kitchen, leaving me and the worm sprawled on the floor.
“I was doing it. I was so close.”
I pant, my ass getting soaked by some unknown liquid on the floor. Did I piss myself? I curl up, look at my dick.
“I saw the bastard. It waved at me. Had on a tiny hat.”
“Emilio! Chill the fuck out!”
Massimo goes back to making eggs. The smell makes me gag, makes the worm wiggle faster across my stomach. I’m dying over here. My brother doesn’t care, putting Holli on speaker.
“Have you ever been with someone who totally disarms you?”
Massi snorts. I do too.
What a pussy ass question.
Holli’s such a doormat sometimes.
“Bro. I’ve been with people who disrobe me, disown me, and one girl tried to disinfect me. What kind of disarming are we talking about?”
I mutter, “Definitely not the kind with tacos and a strap-on,” but no one hears. More talking. I tune out, distracted by a smear of pink on the ceiling.
Is that lipstick?
The longer they talk, the faster the room spins. Holli’s blah, blah, blah about a chick. I roll onto my side and press my cheek to the tile. It’s cold. Wet. I taste cigarette ash and regret in the back of my throat.
Massi hums. “Well, looky here. Holli found a girl that disarms him . . .”
I groan. Drag my fingernails across my chest where the worm is starting to move again. He’s doing laps now. Zipping between my ribs like Mario Kart. My whole stomach flexes like it’s possessed, and no one cares.
“I knew I shouldn’t have called you,” Holli mutters through the speaker.
“I fucking knew I shouldn’t have eaten the worm,” I mutter back.
More talking. More moaning from me. Massimo says something about pussy. I want pussy.
Who’s eating pussy?
I’m jealous. Visions of pussy lips dance in front of my watery eyes. Massimo chuckles like my misery is a fucking romcom and not a worm emergency. The slimy little ridged body is snagging on my guts. Trying to get out through my belly button. No one hears the scraping. But I do. Little claws. Tiny hat. The bastard’s mocking me.
Then it happens, the worm shifts direction. A fast left across my stomach. Burning a trail lower. Headed south to my pretty bald balls. I lift my waistband. See, they’re in danger.
