This is a little fun story I wrote at uni for a student who said her back yard was filthy and she decided to tidy it up; she discovered some maggots that looked like 'wriggley rice' that just wouldn't die, even after two gallons of bleech were poured on them


They Lived On!
by Jonathan Malory

… it was after I got to the third layer of bin-bags in the back yard that I first saw them, millions of them; like wriggley rice writhing to the surface in a desperate struggle to escape what lay beneath. Of course I’d seen maggots before, but there was something unusual; something distinctly odd and out of place going on here. It seemed as if some of the little grubs were being sucked back down, I could almost feel their panic.

Then I saw it, what was really going on. There were bigger, fatter worms beneath gobbling up the smaller ones; cannibals! They weren’t huge but just perceptibly bigger to make them appear freakish, preternatural. The thing with ordinary maggots is that they don’t eat living flesh, that’s why they use them in hospitals these days to help clean up wounds; they eat all the dead useless flesh and leave the wound cleaner than we ever could. But these things were eating living flesh and to my horror some of them were trying to eat through my shoes to get at my feet. Well I can tell you now, I wasn’t having that!

I kicked them off and ran to the kitchen to get the bleach, it was a huge four litre bottle that someone had nicked from work. I didn’t bother watering it down, just poured the lot over the infested area. I almost killed myself, the air filled with the choking stench of bleach, I could see it shimmering as it burnt my eyes and throat; I had to get away from there fast but I couldn’t see. Turning slipping gagging, I lunged in the direction of the house and found myself on the concrete gazing in wonder at what I saw. The industrial-strength bleach had stripped away everything but the monsters’ hive and the creatures themselves, they lived on! It was poor Tixy, our household cat, she’d being missing for days; we thought she’d just come back like she always does. And under her was the next-door neighbour's Red Setter, filthy aberrations squirming out from the poor darling’s eye sockets. The bastards were living on our domestic pets, they’d killed ‘em both and now they were after me! They didn’t get me, well not all of me anyway.

Thanks Pip, and Prom for his roundabout complement

see what you think of this, it's a little crazy!

Eternal Bog Life
by, Jonathan Malory


Before I go anywhere with this I want it made clear from the very start that I am a dead man. Not in the sense that someone is going to kill me, but rather in the more real sense that I have died not ten minutes ago. This is not science fiction or horror, this is really happening to me. I was sitting on the toilet, I always knew that I was going to die on the toilet, taking one of those huge dumps when it feels like your whole insides are going with it. I was squeezing so hard to get it out, sweating like a Grand National winner, when my heart; body; whatever, gave up and died with my crap halfway out. Phew, that should really disgust me but for some reason it doesn’t seem to bother me now, not like it’s going to kill me; hell of a stink for the poor soul that finds me though.

Oh, I know what you’re thinking; if this guy’s dead then how is he writing this story? Well here goes, I’m not going to tell you; make up your own mind and get over it. I wonder if I’ll get to see them all after they find I’m dead, they always took me for a fool and used me because of my generous nature. Always trying to suck up to me for their precious little names on my will, hah, the fools. Hee hee, don’t I look funny sitting on the toilet like that with those silly red shorts round my ankles; always fond of that lumberjack shirt, though I didn’t realise how much my belly stuck out. Claire was always the worst, pretending she secretly fancied me all the time the stupid cow; hmm those furtive winks across the corridor. And that stupid fat guy in the boiler suit always polishing the floor till he could see his big fat face in it, what’s his name? Who cares? He always has an air about him like he knows something you don’t, like he’s privy (heee heee, privy) to some special kind of information about the universe, like he has a secret connection with God. Well screw him I’ve died first and I’ll get the info on God before him the know-it-all fat little prick. Jake that’s his name, Jake the janitor they all call him; not me, he’s a cleaner for Christ’s sake, can’t stand all that lousy American talking stuff. Yeah Jake; wont they get a surprise when they find out I’ve left all my money to Jake the friggin’ Janitor, hah bloody hah.

How did I ever get so fat? What an expression, I look like a parody of the scream by that munching fellow; don’t know art. Sarah, now I could never figure out whether she was really in love with me or whether she was just putting up with me till I carped it. She’s certainly waited long enough and she’s not getting a penny, what legs though; wow she had legs to die… oh yes, so I have. I do know one thing, they are all going to miss me even if I was a little bit of an arse now and again. I thought being dead would be a lot stranger than this, it’s just like being alive only not. Thought I’d be laughing my head off when the time came, no I didn’t, never thought I’d be thinking at all- this is all very strange. What’s that? Ah, voices outside. Muffled.

Knock-knock!

‘Yes?’ Stupid me, I’m dead they can’t hear a thing.

‘Are you in there?’ sounds like Sarah.

‘NO!’ hee hee hee.

‘Shit man, it stinks; what the hell is it?’ Sounds like Jake, what the hell is he doing here?

‘IT’S SHIT!’ They seem to be pushing and shoving outside.

Someone whispering , ‘You go in and have a look’

Aww they’re probably worried about me, I have been in here a long time. Shush, someone’s coming in!

‘Well?’

‘Yeah yeah, it’s worked the fat arsehole is dead; here give me a hand, Jesus it stinks, he was halfway through a crap.’ Sarah the bitch, I knew it.

SLAM!

There goes the door and here I am still dead, I feel oddly calm considering. Look at the state of that grouting, those tiles are so seventies. I never believed in heaven or hell, not sure I ever truly believed that I’d just die and wink out either. But now I know I’m going to live out eternity in the upstairs bog, I feel kind of pleased with myself; think of the possibilities.
:looney: LOL LOL LOL :looney:
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Re: maggots

I was totally picturing Nunmill Street when I was writing about the maggot thing in the back yard. Charlotte was living in a terraced house and nobody would take the bin bags into the back lane; they were piling up a-la-nunmill street

thanks, nice to bring some extra happiness to your day :bounce:

they weren't really my jokes; they are e-mailed to me by some stupid American joke site so I thought I'd torment BW with them too, I made the odd one actually funny by altering them myself

about 3 in 100

Pippa says that to Prom all the time.

the hooves mainly...