Worm-a-phobia

My life in worms. Also, my first Substack with a recipe!

Pre-phobia, fearless little Holly felt pure joy while playing in the mud.

Age 5

“Holly, I have a surprise for you,” my mom yells from her garden. I peek my head out the screen door, my little heart pitter patters at that word… surprise. One thing about me: I fucking love surprises.

I plant my small body in the freshly mowed grass just next to the wooden trellis crawling with tomatoes. She instructs me to close my eyes. I do as I’m told. I love the tinkly way my mom laughs when she’s up to something, and I can’t even imagine what this surprise might be, but my anticipation grows along with her giggles.

“Okay,” she gasps, trying to contain herself. “Open your eyes.”

My field of vision is overtaken by millions of slimy, purple-y bits of chopped up penis flesh, writhing and squirming towards me, one inch from my face, all clumped in a horrifying mass of wet blackness. Shock rises from my throat in a Hitchcock scream, shattering the glass of every window in the neighborhood. My mother is at the…