Worms and Riddlers

My lawyer, a poor, cheap man who wore little and knew little, knocked on the door of my run-down apartment with a forlorn expression slicked across his plasticine face. "Are you Mr. Frauk?" He pulled out a card, offered his rubber-gloved hands, but I refused. He offered it again, but I pushed it away and smiled in false respect. "Mr. Frauk?", the lawyer repeated in his ancient German accent. "Frank", I paused, and beckoned him in, "My name is Frank. What is this about?" "Mr... Frauk", his lips curled as he grimaced to pronounce my name," Frauk, Frank, Frauk... Nonetheless, I'm here because of a recent uncle of your kin. If I remember him properly, his name is Drew Trijark." "Trark", I repeated, but in a different accent, mocking him somewhat. "Trark, Trijark, Trark... But what I wanted to talk to you about is his inheritance", my lawyer paused as if in sadness and contemplation, turned away, hiding his

In the morning, he sat motionless, staring at the ceiling. Looking at the blankness, total emptiness, he wondered about his life.  Useless….  Useless…  Useless…  Useless…  What had he done to deserve a paper job, God? God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Why? Why him? It echoed through his mind. He tried to think about it further. His mind was warped and strange, like a raw sheet of bubble wrap, enveloping the stupidity of his brain… His life… The road of unkempt stones. Water ran over the wings of a broken thing, wood and rubble crept along the sides of home…  He sat in isolation, thinking to himself. Thinking…. Thinking… Thinking of that glorious world past the bed, past the home, where the great Heroes of the World ran their business in the sky…  Steam rose in the air, tiny metal cups hung along the sides of a yellow house, and a bearded man wearing pleasant rags watched him… Stared at his beady eyes, his tired shape…. Buddy’s was a wonderful place to eat a couple of pancakes, and wash it down wi