Dear Mr Kennedy,
There is no time for formal introductions for there is great evil at work. You must come and collect your brain worm from my house. You know, the one that lived inside your skull and ate half your brain. Yeah that one. He never died, he appeared to me one morning and now the great wriggling menace won’t leave me alone.
It all started a few weeks ago, I had this dream. My memory of it is kinda hazy, but from what I can remember I was stuck inside a sort of dungeon, but all of the walls were made of flesh. I heard strange Gregorian chanting all around me. I was dazed and confused, but I had to find out where these sounds were coming from. Then all of a sudden, what appeared to be a ten foot worm manifested before my very eyes. He had great big bulging eyes and was dressed in some sort of dark robe. I thought I was about to hear the word of God, I was expecting to hear an ethereal voice, but what I got was very different.
He instead spoke in a deep harsh voice, like he was gargling gravel as he spoke. I knew I had heard that voice somewhere before, but where?
He told me not to fear (which said in his voice made me incredibly fearful). He said that the FDA’s day of judgement was upon us and that the CDC was condemned to hell itself. Suddenly it all became very clear to me. It was you! It was your brain worm! But what the hell was he doing in my dream Robert?
I woke in a cold sweat, believing that this vision was merely a nightmare induced by the copious amounts of Red 40 I consumed the night before. But this worm was my reality now. He was standing at the foot of my bed, looking right through me with that horrendous gaze. He simply said, “we have much work to do, lard monkey!” Before I could offer a retort he was gone. Speeding into my kitchen as if he was shot out by a cannon.
The brief moment between getting out of bed and heading into the kitchen to meet my squirming foe has been the only peace I have had for the past few weeks. I am now going to outline some of the mischievous acts your little friend has got me to do, Robert!
He made me go cattle rustling!
Who even does that any more? As crimes go, it’s sort of a novelty these days, it really has fallen out of fashion. Why did we go cattle rustling I hear you ask, to secure a good source of raw milk and beef tallow for cooking with. Of course!
I questioned this decision, I told him that I was doing just fine drinking normal milk and cooking with normal oils. He let out this awful giggle and said he could smell the cancer on me.
He would rant and rave about some pesticide called Atrazine. He said he saw it rain down on frogs in a lab, feminizing them instantly. He told me that this was of great importance to the White House and these same rains must fall on downtown Bangkok. I can only assume it had something to do with the famed Thai ladyboys.
He was obsessed with the idea that this Atrazine was in the rain. On several occasions he forced me to drive him around all the local schools when it was raining, trying to get all the children to take shelter. “The rain is gay kids, take cover or else!” He would cry this at random intervals from his perch on the dashboard as I swerved in and out of traffic.
Do you have any idea how stupid I looked driving around a fucking worm. He insisted on riding shotgun, occasionally barking directions at me like he was my copilot.
He began to influence my mood, despite the fact that he was only perched upon my shoulder, like a great wiggling devil. I found it very peculiar that he wouldn’t nest inside my brain. When I questioned him on it, he simply replied that there was far too much Autism swimming around in there. He informed me that Autistics have been known to cause great suffering across our earthly realm.
My mood would alter in strange ways, at around midday I would get this insatiable bloodlust, like I wanted to rob mother nature of one of her children and drive its limp lifeless body around on the roof of my minivan. You know, really odd stuff!
You probably have many questions. Such as why I didn’t kill it. To be honest with you Robert, I was scared. He kept saying he had connections, sinister connections to the kinda people that can make other people disappear. He would remind me of this point whenever I seemed apprehensive about partaking in one of his schemes.
Robert, I want you to imagine my situation for a brief moment. At least that little monster was hidden inside your skull for most of your life. I have to be seen in public with him. A pet dog is acceptable, cute even. A grown man walking around with a worm on his shoulder isn’t cute, it’s disturbed, it’s unhinged. People look at me like I’m some sort of mad shipwrecked pirate.
That is why you must come and collect him Robert, you know how to live with this monster, I don’t. If you don’t come soon, I fear it will be too late.
Kind regards,
Harry