We could blame it. That only way to ever sleep again, to go on, to do anything. Otherwise, what? Knot bedsheets and hope the ceiling fan holds? No. It was that thing, bug, grub, worm whatever it was. That did it. That’s what made us do those…things.
Truth is, it just sat there. Fat off everything we did. It ate what we fed it. It didn’t make us do anything. It just freed us of our inhibitions. Everything we did…we because we already had it in us.
Alternative names: Carrion Grubs
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