AcmeShorts

"Worms?" I asked. "Worms," she replied. "Just, uh, to make sure," I challenged, "we are talking about worms, right?" "Yes," she responded. "Because if we weren't talking about worms, it might be unclear, because you continue to use the word 'worms'." "Jesus Fucking Christ you asshole," she acknowledged, "we are talking about god damn worms!" "Okay." My heart sagged. Jesus. Worms. My best buddy had worms! He'd be cured, of course; nowadays a short regimen on potent drugs did it. But it was a turning point in our relationship. Did it signify a growing neglectfulness, a heedless disregard of my responsibilities? Was it the inevitable outcome of the vagaries of time? The world seemed grey, and for a few moments I stewed in my melancholy. "So, as I was saying, administer the pill three times--" "Wait," I interrupted, "maybe I shouldn't have bedded Trooper down in dirty hay from our pig sty!" "That's poss--" "And maybe I should have brought him to a veterinarian for innoculations at least once in his 9 years of life!" "You mustn't blame yours--" "And maybe I shouldn't have repeatedly taken Trooper to the dog park and forced him to eat other dogs' shit before I removed the buttplug from his ass allowing him to relieve the pressure from his churning colon which I caused by spiking his chow with Ex-Laxx! It was just a game! He liked it!" I was tearing out my hair with grief. Was I the cause of this affliction? I would, of course, never know, but that didn't stop my woe from preoccupying every waking minute of my thought.