Wormfood

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Grandma woke me up with her .10 gauge, shooting at the ground squirrels again. I think that was the morning it all started, when the worms got loose and the Sawyer brothers stole the dead steer and Fat Ernst had us break into Earl’s coffin and I tasted Misty Johnson’s sweat and that witch crawled out of the darkness under her lawn mower and a whole hell of a lot of blood got spilled.

Yeah. It started with Grandma and her Browning.

Those squirrels pissed her off like you wouldn’t believe, burrowing into the rich black soil and eating her vegetables. She grew nearly everything we ate in her garden out there behind the trailer, from tomatoes that swelled up like water balloons about to burst to red onions the size of softballs to ears of corn so sweet they tasted like they were half sugar cane.

So when the squirrels snuck in and tried to eat the results of her hard work, Grandma went to war. And she didn’t take prisoners.

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