“Worms! Worms! You bastards and your worms! YOU are the worms! Hahaha! No point in fighting it! Your work for my father? Oh? Dave? Save it, you worm! Worms! All these God damn worms!”
Sweet, sweet Charlie The Worm sat on the curb, rolling his cigarette with dirt ridden fingers, screaming at the pavement, cold and cracked beneath him. The shoppers and the workers and the seers and the doers moved past and around Charlie The Worm like stepping over a steaming pile of dog shit. Charlie The Worm laughed manically, drooling heavily from his gaping mouth.
“That’s it! That’s it! Dave? Oh, he works for my father. You better tell him! Tell him! Tell the worm! Jesus, these worms! Hahaha!”
Charlie The Worm stuck his crooked loose cigarette to his his lips, lit it and blew out the gray smoke in quick bursts. Across the street were a pair of women, tall blond twins with full chests and exposed long long long legs. The blond twins sat down on a bench and crossed their legs simultaneously, eerie in their symmetry. They powdered their noses, painted their lips, flicked their hair, primmed prepped solidified their presence. It took some time for Charlie The Worm to notice the twins, but when he did, his eyes lit up, ballooned pupils red with excitement. Charlie The Worm struggled to his feet, groaning like a sick pig. He shuffled across the street, a few cars darting around him, honking and yelling out of their windows. The twins saw him approaching and they whispered to each other, a couple of stoned looks of serious apathy covered their bony faces. Charlie The Worm circled the twins, sniffing their hair and blowing smoke and drool into their faces.
“Worms! God, God, God! Oh? You work for my father? Tell him! Tell him! I’ll tell him, I’ll tell him…worms! My…my gorgeous worms! Hahaha! Shh!”
Charlie The Worm put two fingers to the lips of each of the twins. They looked at him with their big eyes, without fear, without contempt, without anything puzzling at all. Charlie The Worm grinned wildly and clapped his hands together, retarded with joy. The twins stood up, a foot and a half taller than Charlie The Worm. They both took one of his hands and moved down the sidewalk. Charlie The Worm stood between the twins and looked up at them, from one to the other, his filthy face radiating something like happiness.
“Dave? You work for my father? Tell him! Tell him!…Worms, worms…my beautiful…”
“That’s enough, Charlie,” one of the twins said, lacking any sort of emotion in her voice.
“Things will be alright now, Charlie,” the other twin said in the same flat monotone voice as the other twin.
“Your troubles are over.”
“No more suffering.”
“No more pain.”
“You deserve it.”
“Yes, you have earned it.”
Charlie The Worm began to sob, strings of snot falling out of his nose and onto his shirt. In a matter of seconds, he was shaking, writhing like a newborn, ruined. The twins smiled at last and gripped his hand, tighter and fully, a strong warmth suddenly running through the three of them.
“Did you see that?”
“The twins with the homeless crying guy.”
“No. I can’t say I did.”
“Strange. Very, very strange.”
“What is is strange, very, very strange?”
“I just told you.”
“I don’t care.”
“I don’t either, actually.”
“Are we gonna have to wait here much longer?”
“Not sure. Probably.”
“What time did he say he would be here?”
“What time is it now?”
“He’s always late. Most of the time. Usually, actually. Most of the time he’s usually late.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Most things don’t, I guess.”
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing is pretty funny.”
“What time is it?”