❝ that's nice ❞
Oh, you guys.
I had so much I wanted to say, and yet--
The only thing that matters is it's twenty minutes shy of being eleven o'clock and I had waited this long to put the trash in the trash can. So I exit, garbage in one hand, foul look on my face as I try to bat the spider webs out of my way. The light barely illuminates my passage to the bottom of the stairs where the trash can is, but there's a huge plant blocking my way. I'm not sure if there are any bugs hiding in it, so I decide to stand on the stairs and reach over the side to grab the top of the trash can and just drop the trash in. I reach down and make a grab for it, but the handle is wet and slightly shocks me, so I pull my hand back and shake it. I try once more, but the wetness make me draw my hand back again and again.
Why, I wonder, why can't I just grab it? Why does the water on the handle bother me so much? I consider going in to get gloves, but, no, it's almost eleven, I don't want to waste my time. I reach back once more and yet again, my hand instinctively draws back from the handle.
Sick of this, I take a look at the handle to find a dry spot, but the water looks so funny with the moon shining on it. It kind of almost looks like it's moving.
Moving water. I look closer, blind as a bat even with my glasses. Suddenly it looks like the water is moving faster. Water doesn't move, water doesn't--
It's maggots.
Maggots.
Hundreds of maggots crawling on the trash can lid; I have been putting my hand in hundreds of maggots for almost a minute.
I pause for a minute, then promptly drop the trash and run into the house where I proceed to do the "God, they're all over meeeee" dance. You know, the one where you run in every direction because it feels like bugs are all over you?
I'm going to bed.
I had so much I wanted to say, and yet--
The only thing that matters is it's twenty minutes shy of being eleven o'clock and I had waited this long to put the trash in the trash can. So I exit, garbage in one hand, foul look on my face as I try to bat the spider webs out of my way. The light barely illuminates my passage to the bottom of the stairs where the trash can is, but there's a huge plant blocking my way. I'm not sure if there are any bugs hiding in it, so I decide to stand on the stairs and reach over the side to grab the top of the trash can and just drop the trash in. I reach down and make a grab for it, but the handle is wet and slightly shocks me, so I pull my hand back and shake it. I try once more, but the wetness make me draw my hand back again and again.
Why, I wonder, why can't I just grab it? Why does the water on the handle bother me so much? I consider going in to get gloves, but, no, it's almost eleven, I don't want to waste my time. I reach back once more and yet again, my hand instinctively draws back from the handle.
Sick of this, I take a look at the handle to find a dry spot, but the water looks so funny with the moon shining on it. It kind of almost looks like it's moving.
Moving water. I look closer, blind as a bat even with my glasses. Suddenly it looks like the water is moving faster. Water doesn't move, water doesn't--
It's maggots.
Maggots.
Hundreds of maggots crawling on the trash can lid; I have been putting my hand in hundreds of maggots for almost a minute.
I pause for a minute, then promptly drop the trash and run into the house where I proceed to do the "God, they're all over meeeee" dance. You know, the one where you run in every direction because it feels like bugs are all over you?
I'm going to bed.