The asparagus

Some poor sap is missing a rib, bleeding out on his 350 thread-count Egyptian cotton, and I’m passing the asparagus to a guy in a plastic collar.

Amelia Gray, Museum of the Weird, “Unsolved Mystery.”

On the back of the wormicide bottle there is one warning: Do not plunge your hands into the dark earth and hold them still until nature renews its movement and you feel the delicate pulse of thousands of worms through your fingertips and across your palms. Such a feeling will make it very difficult to use this wormicide.

Museum of the Weird, “Thoughts while Strolling.”

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