Horror Bugz

Photo by Slappy McGee
Werdz by Ted Crumski

If anyone was to blame, it was Bill. Not directly, of course. No, what did he know of the misguided experiments in genetic engineering propelled by unfettered corporate greed, the lack of regulatory oversight due to revolving door arrangements and the corrupting influence of lobbyists, or the utter failure of first response by the underpaid and overscheduled security personnel who bolted in cowardly yet defensible self-preservation from the research site the moment these abominable horrors broke free and commandeered the joint?

But none of that put us here. No, that was most assuredly Bill, in a garrulous reverie induced by mostly legal substances, who wagged his silver tongue and miraculously motivated our band of indifferent schlubs to enlist in this folly for a god none of us believed in and a country largely inclined to marginalize us. Always the cut-up, the clown, the instigator, the punter of responsibility… He nevertheless had an undeniable gift, yet he never once put it to a laudable use.

If there was any solace to be had, Bill was the first whose face was melted by caustic arachnoid spew, whose throat was ruptured ragged by fanged maws, whose every internal squishy bit was ejected in a wet burst of offal confetti as he was dragged away to fulfill his ultimate purpose as the gestational vessel for a brood of revolting monstrosities.

Lucky were we to be able to witness it and laugh heartily at his expense one last time as only his best friends could.