Doone watched her as she ran around the house looking for this and that, having procrastinated but being good at it, so she accomplished her tasks one by one in a hurry. She hadn’t even tried the ruffled dress on again since its purchase and wasn’t even sure it still fit. She had very little time (an hour) to find another so for her sake he hoped it did. He hoped that she felt beautiful in it despite her initial reservations and that she could walk in with confidence. His goal had always been to help her feel better about herself. This was not an easy task. She was proving to be quite difficult.

He didn’t dare stop her as she flitted about the house, though he wanted to offer an opinion on her make up, he wasn’t sure it would be received well. She didn’t have to go the undead route, she could soften it up a bit with pastels. She’d never listen to him. She was still having trouble with the fact he could iron.

He wished he could accompany her, to assure her that everything would be ok, but that would be impossible. He was under orders from The Worm Guy to accomplish his task. He wondered where The Worm Guy had gone off to, last he knew he was visiting the Art Teacher and hadn’t been heard from in a while. Hmmm…

Management felt the need to make this clarification that not everything is weird, weird, weird, and that in some cases our heroine leads a completely normal life.

-The Mgt

Well at least he’s being taken care of which is more than she could say she did for him. She still hadn’t found him proper accommodations. What was she supposed to look for?  A Barbie bed would be too big. Perhaps something in a dollhouse size would do.  What was she talking about? This was absurd. The fact that she even had a talking worm spending the night was ludicrous, let alone one that would arrive next time in a poncho. (Although truth be known, she was sure it was a lovely poncho and was probably going to want a matching one of her own.) 

It seemed quiet tonight without the worm to talk to. She was feeling a bit lonely actually. She missed him. Wow, what did that say for her mental health status?

She listened as she played another one of her musical scores and dreamed about how nice it would be if her dog would talk to her too. Perhaps she was asking too much. He probably wouldn’t have anything nice to say and imagined him cursing her out for this or that. He always acted more macho than his 7 or so pounds could back up.

She kicked back and imagined Worm Guy in his new Poncho sipping tequila with the Art Teacher. . .what a day.

She saw on the news that British astrophysicist Stephen Hawking was talking about intelligent alien lifeforms almost certainly existing. She wondered if Stephen Hawking knew that in the United States, worms were dressing rather sharply and talking. Did that count? She figured it was close enough and smiled.  (Damn, more wrinkles!)

She was in pain tonight, her neck and shoulder giving her trouble as it often did when the weather changed. This of course got her thinking about her injury, and her old life. . . It made her sad for a bit, but she was getting better at coping with the “new normal.”

Her “new normal” consisted of visits from a talking Worm Guy, adventures to weird places, visits to the asylum. . . and a lot of whining all without leaving her room. Then there was the normal, normal stuff, and she was just getting back to functioning again in that realm.  It was time to be grateful for everything she had (Worm Guy included) and not what she was lacking.

And thank YOU, whoever you are, out there, reading.  You matter too. 

She could hear tiny snores from Worm Guy as he continued to sleep. . .

Thank you.

-The Mgt

Enter the Worm Guy in a yellow raincoat.

The Worm Guy (yes, a bug) stood dripping on the window sill as he collapsed his red umbrella. She stared in awe at his arrival (as she so often did) just because he was a Worm Guy and he was dressed AND he could talk.

“Good evening,” he said, as he stomped over closer in his multicolored striped rain boots. “How are you tonight?”

“I’m doing better than I was earlier” she said with a smile as she took in the full extent of his outfit. 

“I have a message for you. . . The teacher has the key.”  The worm shrugged as he spoke and shook out his umbrella. He looked out at the storm and asked if he could spend the night again.

She agreed and gave the same warning as before. No funny stuff.  She found a washcloth and gave it to the Worm Guy, though it was far too large, and he was able to dry off a bit.  She would have to come up with some better accommodations for the little guy. . .

The teacher has the key…what did that mean? ? ? She would have to figure this out. She needed some adventure and excitement in her life. Perhaps it would come to her…but first…a nap. . .

-The Mgt

“Nice dress you have hanging over there” he said.

“Thanks, I think” she said.

“I’m on my way to a hoe down” he said with a grin that would make the Cheshire cat’s look small.

“Have fun” she said, wondering what the grin was all about and what the significance of ruffles in her life was. 

She thought about it some more and wondered if the ruffles could symbolize the layers in her life.  Something to ponder… Now what was that worm up to???  She thought she heard music coming from outside and walked over to the window to listen. Dueling Banjos (from “Deliverance”)was playing ever so faintly. It didn’t seem to be coming from anywhere in particular. It just hung in the air. That was one twisted worm.

She would have to give the layers thing some more thought…maybe some more self discovery…now if she could just get the banjos out of her head…

“I’ve just come in to relax” the worm said.

“I see” she said as she watched him squirm around into a what appeared to be a more comfortable (?) position.

“Would you mind if I spent the night?” inquired the worm.

“I guess not” she said.

She really needed to find her camera. This would be an awesome photo. Of course her room resembled her head at the moment and she wasn’t quite sure where she placed it.  Hmm, camera phone… “If I just try and get the right angle, wait, no, don’t move…”

“Lady, you can’t do that, I hate cameras. And besides, you’d look nuts if you were showing people pictures of a worm with a little hat. They’d think you were playing dress up with a worm. You’d look coo coo.”

“Good point” she said, but she snapped a shot anyway just as he slithered behind a photoframe.

“Ha, not fast enough!” he said.

“Okay, Okay, I’ll leave you be. Just um, don’t try anything when I got to sleep, ok?” she said with a little hesitation.

The worm simply shook his head and curled up and went to sleep.

Must be nice to just be able to go to sleep like that. No pills. No pills to ease the taking of other pills. She sighed and glanced over at her pill bottles awaiting “the big event” for the evening.  But first…

“Goodnight little worm, sweet dreams.”

She was, however, awake before the symphony of heavy equipment began today so her dreams were not invaded by giant spaceships or new life forms greeting us hello. She did wonder if her newly emerging hostas were safe out there as they had arrived in a peculiar place thanks to the removal and replanting of “the stick” of a tree in her front yard. She was so afraid the mowers would go right over them she almost went down to protect them…almost…but not quite.  She would have to have some faith that they wouldn’t meet the same uncertain death her other perennials did when apparently plucked from their beginnings as “weeds” in the flower beds.  “Oops” someone might have said.

She realized not every morning should wake up to a “rant” and she had to admit it was beautiful out. The green of the leaves was so very vibrant today and there was just enough breeze to catch their attention away from the slightly overcast sky. It was a nice day out. One that should be enjoyed. Perhaps a journey later on.  But there were things to be done. She had to get the word out about http://companyneedsmisery.com after all, what was rambling if she was just doing it to her self???

She looked out the window in time to see a little worm guy tapping. Yes, tapping.  She walked over to see what he wanted. (Wow, the bugs in this state were really something.) He said he was visiting from another place and would like to know if he could use the facilities. (Are you kidding?) “Sure” she said.  So she let the worm guy come in and clean up and he thanked her and let himself out.  Her days were getting stranger by the minute it seemed.  She wondered if he was aerating the lawn.

The sounds of the equipment thundered on and she knew that by days end, the street would look lovely and there would be no excuse not to talk a walk and enjoy the splendor of it all. And who knows, maybe they’d run into the worm guy again…