DanCaetta
November 4th, 2014, 02:43 AM
The crops stood high for it being late August. I never paid much attention to them before. They were high and deep, and as I shined the flash light into the darkness we observed the winding and knotting of the plants. The light didn’t travel much into the abyss. With the car dead and waiting for us, we approached the rows on the other side of the road. Our friend and spectator, the headless cow, now wandering aimlessly back into his pasture. The crops smelled earthy, ethereal.
“Gimme the bags, Jimbo.” I snatched the black plastic bags out of his hands with a quick motion.
“You go first; I’ll take up the rear,” Jimmy said.
“The fuck you will.”
“You got the flash light, man! Just follow the cock. Your ex-girlfriend has the same philosophy.”
“I deserved that.” I started wedging my way in between the first layer of corn, doubled over. The stalks rubbed against my jacket like strange arms. The leaves were damp even though it hadn’t rained for days. My feet were trying not to trip over themselves. Jimmy dragged the shovel behind him as he followed me. After a few steps into the abyss, we were out of sight from the road; my car and a fleeting cow and silence was all that remained behind us. A few more steps and I felt like we were getting lost.
“Are we still going the right way?”
“Shit if I know, man. This is the direction it was pointing.”
“Stay close behind me, I don’t want to lose you.” I shoved the bags into my coat and put my empty hand out behind me, finding his arm.
“I love you too man!” Jimmy laughed. “Seriously, your ass is looking pretty good from back here.”
We shuffled our feet slow, towards where we think the rock was pointing. I glanced up a few times at the night sky. It looked as if the black was illuminating downwards, and it was almost blinding to stare at for longer than a few seconds. My left hand was out in front of me, the flash light only showing the next few feet. All the corn stalks were the same, as if we were walking a stretch of five feet over and over. Jimmy and I didn’t say anything, but my hand was still holding his arm. He let me hold it, or at least didn’t care if I did; but after a few minutes of walking, he jerked it back violently, and screamed.
I darted around and shined the light on him. He was brushing off his right forearm with him left hand in a hard stabbing motion, saying “gettoff me motherfucker, gettoff me,” and then “that’s right you little bitch,” while stomping the ground. I stood there. After stomping a few more times he looked up at me.
“What?” he blurted out, pissed off and a little scared. “I had an earwig on me!”
I tried not to laugh, but my face obviously distorted to show some kind of amusement.
“I hate those things. Nothing I hate more. They make my skin crawl!” He rubbed his ears and shivered, his body shaking the stalks around him.
Jimmy had an incident when he was a kid. An earwig crawled into his ear when he fell asleep in the overgrown grass out back by his kiddie pool. Thought he had water in his ear all day. He would stick his finger in it and try to wiggle the water out, but it never gave. Finally, at bedtime, he laid his ear down on the pillow, thinking it would drain out as he slept. But in the silence and darkness of the room, he heard small, muted scratching deep in his ear canal, [like the rubbing of a covered microphone], and he felt tiny feet crawl around inside of him. He screamed and jumped out of bed and into his dad’s, but that drunk asshole pushed him off, told him he was dreaming. He went to the bathroom and beat the side of his head, right above the ear, on the free standing white porcelain sink. He passed out before the bug came out, but when he woke up hours later, the feeling was gone, and he found an earwig crawling over the crack he made in the sink. He told me he never killed the thing. He just never went in that bathroom again.
“Gimme the bags, Jimbo.” I snatched the black plastic bags out of his hands with a quick motion.
“You go first; I’ll take up the rear,” Jimmy said.
“The fuck you will.”
“You got the flash light, man! Just follow the cock. Your ex-girlfriend has the same philosophy.”
“I deserved that.” I started wedging my way in between the first layer of corn, doubled over. The stalks rubbed against my jacket like strange arms. The leaves were damp even though it hadn’t rained for days. My feet were trying not to trip over themselves. Jimmy dragged the shovel behind him as he followed me. After a few steps into the abyss, we were out of sight from the road; my car and a fleeting cow and silence was all that remained behind us. A few more steps and I felt like we were getting lost.
“Are we still going the right way?”
“Shit if I know, man. This is the direction it was pointing.”
“Stay close behind me, I don’t want to lose you.” I shoved the bags into my coat and put my empty hand out behind me, finding his arm.
“I love you too man!” Jimmy laughed. “Seriously, your ass is looking pretty good from back here.”
We shuffled our feet slow, towards where we think the rock was pointing. I glanced up a few times at the night sky. It looked as if the black was illuminating downwards, and it was almost blinding to stare at for longer than a few seconds. My left hand was out in front of me, the flash light only showing the next few feet. All the corn stalks were the same, as if we were walking a stretch of five feet over and over. Jimmy and I didn’t say anything, but my hand was still holding his arm. He let me hold it, or at least didn’t care if I did; but after a few minutes of walking, he jerked it back violently, and screamed.
I darted around and shined the light on him. He was brushing off his right forearm with him left hand in a hard stabbing motion, saying “gettoff me motherfucker, gettoff me,” and then “that’s right you little bitch,” while stomping the ground. I stood there. After stomping a few more times he looked up at me.
“What?” he blurted out, pissed off and a little scared. “I had an earwig on me!”
I tried not to laugh, but my face obviously distorted to show some kind of amusement.
“I hate those things. Nothing I hate more. They make my skin crawl!” He rubbed his ears and shivered, his body shaking the stalks around him.
Jimmy had an incident when he was a kid. An earwig crawled into his ear when he fell asleep in the overgrown grass out back by his kiddie pool. Thought he had water in his ear all day. He would stick his finger in it and try to wiggle the water out, but it never gave. Finally, at bedtime, he laid his ear down on the pillow, thinking it would drain out as he slept. But in the silence and darkness of the room, he heard small, muted scratching deep in his ear canal, [like the rubbing of a covered microphone], and he felt tiny feet crawl around inside of him. He screamed and jumped out of bed and into his dad’s, but that drunk asshole pushed him off, told him he was dreaming. He went to the bathroom and beat the side of his head, right above the ear, on the free standing white porcelain sink. He passed out before the bug came out, but when he woke up hours later, the feeling was gone, and he found an earwig crawling over the crack he made in the sink. He told me he never killed the thing. He just never went in that bathroom again.