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Writer's pictureJesse Campbell

Brainworm Party

Updated: Jul 27, 2020


Karl leaned over the chain link fence and whistled. “Fuckin’ sheep. Think for yourselves!”


On the other side of the street, the young couple ignored the taunt, walking on without a sideways glance.


“Headbands are tyranny!” shouted Karl, more riled up at their silence than anything else. “It’s yellow stars next, and then they’re branding us! You want that??”


From inside the house, Nancy smacked on the kitchen window, waving Karl into the house.


“Help me with the snacks,” she grunted, dumping a bowl of corn chips and two lukewarm bottles of store brand Dr. Pepper in Karl’s arms.


“The Chens were wearin’ headbands,” said Karl, shaking his head. “I thought they had some sense.”


“It’s the media,” sighed Nancy, balancing a tray of cookies and a tub of guacamole. “Can’t trust anyone to tell the truth. Kids all out back?”


Karl nodded. “Becky here?”


“Any minute.”


Together, the pair pushed through the door into their expansive backyard, where children screamed and adults mingled, beers in hand.


“Great idea, Karl,” said Barry, snatching a handful of chips out of the bowl. “I told my coworkers about the party - oh boy, you shoulda heard ‘em. ‘Course they’re headband wearin’ types. They believe anything if it’s on CNN.”


“They’re just scared,” said Karl, dumping the snacks out on a picnic table. “And dumb. Not like us. We don’t live in fear.”


“Amen brother. Hey, Becky’s here!”


“Alright kids,” bellowed Karl. “Becky’s here. Gather round.”


Nancy held the backdoor open as a woman shuffled through. “Need help, Becky?”


Becky shook her sweaty, swollen head. “No, no, I just...gotta go a little slow.”


“Don’t be shy, kids,” said Karl, himself backing away unconsciously at the sight of Becky’s purplish, pulsing forehead. “Go say hi.”


Only little Ricky had the courage to approach. “You really got ‘em, Aunt Becky? The brainworms?”


Becky managed a slippery, wet chuckle, wincing as fat, snake-like shadows swirled across the contours of her skull. “It’s nothin’ to be afraid of. Barely a headache.”


“Did it get in through your ears?” asked Marie, who was 12 and curious.


Becky tried to shake her head, but could only manage a slight, creaky twist. “The evidence don’t convince me,” she gasped through half-clenched teeth. A line of blood slipped down her cheek as her left eye began to twitch and shudder, as if tugged from the other side.


“We’ll all have ‘em eventually,” said Karl, whose mouth felt strangely dry. “Now give yer aunt a hug.”


Ricky and the others took a step forward as Becky held her arms open wide.


“Does it hurt?” said Marie.


Becky wrapped the children in her hefty arms. From the back of the party, Karl watched as Becky’s left eye disappeared, replaced by a swirl of glistening, iridescent scales.


“Only a little,” whispered Becky as the dark shadows wound around and around, faster and faster, tighter and tighter.


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