A maggot

Your hand is palm-down on the table. My hand. My hand is palm-down on the table. On my forearm, near the elbow, a maggot is sticking out of my skin. I grasp it gently with my other hand and pull it out.

It doesn’t resist. It doesn’t hang on, that is. If I release the pressure, it starts sliding back in, though.

Pulling a maggot out of my arm is a good feeling. The idea that there is a maggot in your arm might be disturbing, but here I am pulling one out of my arm, which is a good thing. Completely positive.

The more I pull out, the bigger the maggot turns out to be. It’s not so much that it is growing, really; more like it was a lot bigger all along than I thought it was.

It’s a maggot as big as a ferret. Sort of pale blonde-white. Like two kilos of sentient fat. A guy from work who turns out to know a lot about maggots helps me pull it out. The more we pull out, the better I feel about it.

Nothing like getting rid of a big maggot.

8 responses to “A maggot

  1. TH

    It’s good thing I don’t eat anything at breakfast.

    This was just about the worst image you could have conjured up early in the morning.


  2. mig

    It was actually a great dream. I jumped out of bed feeling great and had coffee, sour-cherry yogurt, an apple with peanut butter on it and half a grapefruit for breakfast. All the while with the dream still vivid in my mind.
    Writhing and moist, so to speak.

  3. TH

    OK, you’re officially weirder than me ;)

  4. That does sound pretty awesome. So now what are you going to do with all this ferret-sized-maggot-freedom? Something good, I’m sure.

    I love that it was ferret sized, and not, say, chihuahua or trout or baguette sized.

  5. how utterly adorable.

    congratulations, ma’am–it’s a maggot!

    men and their grotesque birthing dreams. xox

  6. You weren’t reading that David Sedaris piece about African worms, on vacation, maybe?

  7. i told you so. now the rest of it will come.