The Wormters Page 5
by JT Pearson
Wormters. I got a garbled message on my answering machine one evening when I got back to my trailer from Taco Taco that started with, “Greetings, Scotland Steibers here,” then garbled noise before, “must sign off for now.”
I was sitting on my deck with a bag of cashews when Mister Fats finally made a showing in the daylight. He walked up on my deck and showed me his claw, even though there was nothing left for him to pop. I tossed him the bag of cashews and told him that I wasn’t going to fight him either. It just wasn’t in me. He crawled up on the lawn chair with the cashews and we watched the sun go down, and later, a couple of strippers beat each other senseless.