My Friend the Worm

Chapter 6 The Brunette

I woke to the smell of mildew and saw slimy pipes through a hole in the ceiling above me. Hairy mold was budding generously from discolored cracks and crevices in the plaster. I'd woken up in the dilapidated apartment again! I sat up and the rattle from the rickety metal bed frame, which was covered in orange corrosion, was music to my ears. I felt a gush of elation, of warm relief, that it was all true—that telepathy was a reality. There was no denying it anymore. I was a true believer now.

Naked as before, I jumped out of bed with a grin, went straight to the dresser, and slipped on my moth-eaten clothes.

As I left the bedroom, I thought I was going to see Lola waiting on the couch. But she was nowhere to be found. Then I remembered how it had taken some time for her to get to the apartment building the last time she'd come. I still didn't understand how all this telepathy worked, but I figured she'd show up shortly.

To kill time, I ventured out into the treacherous hallway outside my apartment. Unlike my first visit here, I wasn't terrified of this place as I crept around the gaps in the floor and skipped over the boulders of debris. I knew this world, this tiny universe, was mine, was somehow me, so what should I be afraid of?

Passing a breach in the wall, I peered inside. A teenage girl was sitting at a bare wooden table in an empty room. She was sloppily swallowing a bottle of pills. They were overflowing from her mouth. She puked onto the table, vomit gushing everywhere, and then quickly put her lips to the chunky puke littered with half-digested pills and slurped it up like a vacuum.

"Don't waste any toxicity. It has to poison. It must poison you. Must kill you," she mumbled to herself, seemingly unaware of me.

I couldn't look away for some reason.

Right as she was bringing her head back up and saw me standing there, her movements suddenly slowed down and she stared at me, her lips and chin glistening with vomit and her mouth slightly ajar.

"Why don't you take a picture. It'll last longer," she sneered.

"I'm sorry," I responded weakly, looking away for a second and blushing.

"I don't forgive you," she said.

"Whatever," I retorted under my breath, and then I watched a smirk grow evilly on her face. I turned and walked off, to give the impression that I didn't care about what she thought of me.

Why should I? This crazy chick was a made-up character in my head. Of course, being slighted by this imaginary person still affected me. Which made me angry with myself. Made me want to grind my teeth. How impotent, so insufferably impotent I was that a figment of my imagination could make me feel bad.

I returned to my apartment to avoid any more confrontations with my citizens. I slumped down on the battered couch, and the fat bearded lady—the same one who'd been killed hours before—appeared in the doorway and stood there, good as new. She watched me, her stomach sagging out of the stained yellow blouse she wore.

For once, this greasy beast of a woman seemed less repulsive to me. In fact, she was kind of a comfort to see.

"Do you hate me, too?" I asked, still thinking of the spiteful girl I'd seen vomiting.

The bearded lady immediately shook her head, the fat from her hairy cheeks wobbling.

"Good," I said, feeling somewhat better. She smiled at me and trudged hesitantly toward the kitchen.

"You can eat whatever you want," I said. I got up and strolled over to the fridge, just to open it for her.

I then was hit by a wave of putrid air from the reeking food.