I can't help but scoff
loudly at my friend's startlingly bad taste. "Really? I only made it
through three episodes, and the most enjoyment I got out of it was imagining
how good it would feel to hit all the main characters with a shovel."
"Well yeah, it starts off kind of slow, but once the
plot actually gets going...oh man." Josh grins and shakes his head,
attention quickly returning to his Styrofoam packaged Korean food.
"Really. Well, I'll see if I have time to watch it
between catching up on all the other quality
shows you've recommend to me..." I smirk as he glances up, eyes narrowed
and mouth full of noodles.
Quickly swiping a napkin across his face, Josh points his
fork at me. "Seriously, you're not giving it enough credit. This show is
hands down the best thing the studio has produced in years!" I roll my
eyes as hard as I can, but he seems determined to convince me. "I
guarantee you're going to like it. Just give it a chance to get going, by the
fifth episode you'll be hooked, trust me."
"Alright alright, if it'll stop you from bugging me
about it I'll-" Hook n 1.
a curved or bent device for catching, holding, or pulling 2. something intended to attract and ensnare.
"Hey, you alright? I think I lost you for a bit
there." Josh laughs, but I can hear the concern in his voice.
"Yeah, sorry, jut... lost my train of thought."
I try to act nonchalant, but he likely doesn't buy it for a moment. "You
were saying, something about the fifth episode?"
Luckily Josh possesses just enough tact to avoid prying,
and immediately launches back into his glowing review of the series' supposed narrative
complexity. Just as he begins to tease me with the details of a 'revolutionary
plot twist,' a horribly familiar metallic sting washes over my tongue. Just before my hand reflexively snaps upwards to cover my mouth his rant trails
off, and I look over to see his eyes fixed on me, a worried look furrowing his brow.
"Dude, I think your mouth is bleeding... You sure
you're ok?" My fingers press together hard, making my hand shake slightly on my mouth. I put on the best 'everything is fine' face I can muster without moving my hand.
"I think I must've bit my lip or something, don't
-" Hook n 1. a curved or bent
device that catches, holds on and
pulls 2. something intended to
attract and ensnare and keep and
"-worry about it, I'll be right back, just gotta clean this off." I'm
already making my way to the bathroom by the time I finish my sentence. At this
point it doesn't matter if Josh believes me or not, I just need to get out of
there. My fingers are starting to slip.
Soon enough, but not nearly as soon as I'd have liked,
I'm on my knees looking into a questionably clean toilet bowl. Blood drips
slowly from my open mouth, individual drops slowly losing coherence within the
water, tinting it a light pink. Maybe it won't be so bad this time, I whisper
to myself, not believing it for a moment. A sudden shifting from within my
abdomen crushes any remaining shred of optimism and sets off a series of
prolonged retches. My eyes begin to water and spittle mixes with the blood in
the toilet bowl.
As per usual, the initial retches bring up nothing but
a small amount of bile that burns the back of my throat. It isn't long though
until they start increasing in intensity, each heave lasting nearly a second
and leaving me gasping for breath. A particularly powerful heave forces my eyes
shut, and a shudder passes through me as I feel something emerge from the back of my throat. I quickly spit it out. There is no splash, yet it still takes a good
deal of willpower for me to open my eyes. I'm almost certain I know what awaits
me in the bowl.
My fears are quickly confirmed by the tiny shape wriggling on the water's surface. Awaiting me, bone white against the
cloudy red water is a fat little worm, twitching frantically yet going nowhere.
Struggling and dyi- HOOK 1. catching
and pulling and catching and tearing and 2.
seducing and putrefying.
Retches brings up bile and blood now, acid and metal
burning my mouth. Suddenly I feel something tickling the back of my tongue.
Between heaves I take a deep breath, and reach into my mouth. I am greeted by
the end of a wire, thin and curling obscenely out of my throat. Wrapping it
around my fingers, I pray that no one else is in the washroom before pulling
hard. Tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision. I only just manage to
stifle a scream, gurgling through the blood collecting quickly in my mouth.
Somehow I manage to keep pulling, and in response the mass within my abdomen
shifts upward.
White knuckles grip off white porcelain. Two more worms slip out of my mouth as I continue to pull, wrapping wire tightly around
my increasingly slippery fingers. The wire cuts into my throat, sending yet more salty tears to mix with the
metallic acid in my mouth. The heaving gets stronger as I pull,
leaving me nearly prostrate before my porcelain throne. I can feel the mass
hiding in my abdomen slowly slither up my throat, and with a final agonizing
pull it flops out and down into the toilet. Quickly retrieving the tiny
pair of scissors from my back pocket, I reach as deep into my mouth as possible
and sever the cord tethering my mouth to the toilet. Shaking, I reach for the
lever to dispose of the thing, but can't help glancing down.
The water is opaque - blood and bile swirls together in
countless red-brown vortices. Near the centre a golf ball sized mass bobs
malevolently. Clumps of hair stick out from tangled lengths of thick wire,
trapping white worms against its slick black surface. Before looking at it
alone triggers another gagging fit I yank the lever, sending it swirling out of
sight. The remainder of the mass slips down in my abdomen nearly in sync, and I
barely suppress one final heave.
My back cracks in protest as I stand up and stagger out
of the stall into the mercifully quiet and empty bathroom. Moving towards a
sink, I'm greeted at the mirror by a grotesque mockery of my face, red eyed and
filthy. Dry paper towel makes short work of the sweat and tears, but the large
blood stain around my mouth takes a bit more effort and a good deal of hot
water to remove. I make sure to fix my hair and bring myself back to a
presentable level before stepping back out into the mall. Josh is still at the
table, the mound of noodles in front of him only negligibly smaller.
He spots me as I walk over, a relieved smile on his face.
"There you are, you had me worried! Few more minutes in there and I might
have considered abandoning my food to check on you..."
I laugh, and as I sit down the mass settles in my gut,
heavier than ever.
