We've all been there

It was a typical Thursday at noon.
I was at home going through celebrity gossip magazines, cutting the faces off celebrities, all while wailing 'oh you think you're better than me do you, with your fancy lives, glamorous lifestyles and creams made out of placenta and foreskin so you look more alive than most, well you're not better than me, cause you don't even have a face!'
We've all been there.

Suddenly a ghost appeared. 
The ghost of an earthworm. 
It was angelical, bathed in a light that seemed to have been delivered by a higher deity and yet simultaneously being emitted from within, and it was slimy and moist, I guess from doing sit-ups or something, I don't know, are worms always like that? Are ghosts? You see enough and you stop paying attention really. 
We've all been there. 

'Avvvvennnnggggee my deeeeaaathhhh' said the ghost worm, in a deep other worldly baritone. 
'Ah man' I replied, in a whiny shrill 'Not this again, can't you see I'm busy?'
'You look like you're wallowing in jealously and self-pity?' It said, with level of judgment even I could decipher, and I'm not usually good at deciphering judgement. I once thought I was dating a girl for three months before I realized she was just a street bum who thought my pants were too saggy. 

'Okaaaaay' I replied, with a moan that would make a teenager told to do his homework seem like someone who'd instead just been given free pie! The best type of pie. Except for of course way better pie that you paid for. You're never going to get good stuff for free you stupid brainless teenager, it's just not going to happen, but the good stuff is good! Suck it up and pay for it, you cheap bastards, 'how did you die?' I asked.
'Natural causes' it replied. 
'Natural causes? NATURAL CAUSES? Natural fucking causes?' I screamed with breaking voice and complaint so thick that it made the internet seem like a place where people talk about the things they LIKE about the world, 'WELL I CANT AVENGE FRICKIN' NATURE'
'You can TRY!!' Said the worm, disgusted at my can-not-do attitude, 'I'm a worm we only live six days (maybe?), you can't tell my head from my ass, and we're all hermaphrodites so there IS no PUSSY, Mother Nature fucked me'.
'Well I can't fuck Mother Nature, wait unless she's hot...' I said, with a wink, going for a laugh. And failing miserably. Fuck the dead and their lack of sense of humors.

'Well I can't do anything about that, I said', it was tough cause I normally like to help ghost worms, but this one was being a needy bitch, so I asked it 'is there anything else I can do?
'You could give me a proper burial?' It requested.
'Ha ha funny, now you have a sense of humor, when I say I joke I get nothing, but now it's ok for you to joke? You're  a ghost you dick, how do I bury you?'
And it said replied, get this 'mur mur MUR, MUR, MUR, MUR' I HATE when ghost worms say that to me. 
We've all been there. 

'Bury my body you dick' it finally said, after a long awkward pause while I was giving it my typical 'I can't believe you said "MUR" at me' face.
'Ok, fine, where is it?' I asked, surrendering. 

And it said 'where I died you idiot'.
And I said 'like I know where you died'.
And it said 'in my home'. 
And I said 'where's that? I didn't know you when you were alive, specifics for fuck sake!'
And it said, 'you know in the dirt, I'm a worm, we don't have addresses'.
And I said, 'hang on, hang on, are you fucking kidding me???? Your body is in the dirt, and you want me to bury you, you DIED buried!!!'
And it said 'so you're telling me, if you die underground in a coffin you don't want to be dug up and recoffined and reburied?' 

He had me there. That's exactly how I plan to die, and I DO want to be reburied. 

For the next six weeks I did little but look for the worms body. Digging holes, putting my ear to the ground listening for the well known tell-tale sounds of decomposing worm carcass, and asking everyone I met 'have you seen an under the dirt but not yet buried worm corpse anywhere?' 
It was a treacherous, and at times lonely search. Tragedy struck too, as during my digging three ants and a weird centipede looking thing were killed by the mighty blade of the soup spoon I was using to dig. 

But finally, finally, in the last place any sane person would look, in the pile of dirt down by the shed, I found it. I looked at it closely, dry, shriveled, none of the light and moisture of its ghost like self, and I realized the whole time I had been talking to the ghost I had never really looked right at it, and now that I looked at its corpse something that should always have been obvious seemed to spit right in my face, and I had to scream the scream of screaming screamer  'oh, you think your better than me, you don't even have a face!!!'
We've all been there.

Ps. It also took three tubs of foreskin cream to repair the skin damage from all that digging. Fuck you ghost worm. 

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