Worm Dialogue

If it isn’t the Captain of the Hyannis Port Terrors! How are ya, Bobby!

Bobby!

Another brilliant deduction from the River Keeper! 

Ah! that’s better. Huh…thought I’d grow more toes, but as I always say, Change is often unexpected, but it’s the law of life!

Do I look like your uncle? 

Again, not your uncle—

tsk-tsk-tsk.

Anthropods? Bobby…

How do any of us know how we got here, Bobby? I came from nothing, or maybe I was brought here by the Great Creator. Chalk it up to a higher power. You’re the expert in that department. Or maybe I’ve always been up there, nested against your medulla oblongata. I saw every thought. I heard the echoes of your mind and followed them, looking for a way out. Except there was no way out. I called for you every night, hoping to hear an answer. 

That was me, kid. Also, I got hungry up there, so apologies, but I chowed down on your amygdala.

Maybe it’s because I ate those memories. 

Sure, Bobby. Sure. 

Little help here? 

Now, I know for a fact I was up in your noggin before the whale. I remember the smell! 

Your guess is as good as mine, Bobby boy!

Bobby, nothing would please me more! 

Ha! ya squawking bastards! Now I know how your uncle felt on PT-109! Land ho!

Naught, naughty, Bobby boy! 

Thanks for showing me around, kid. What a day!

Funny you should mention that…

Ya know, being up in your noggin got me thinking. About what we could be…together…now with this new situation. Sure, being Wormboy is great, but the world’s too big for a creature like me to make an impact. One wrong step, and it’s Squishville. Up there in your cerebellum, it was like being part of something huge. I’m meant for something more. Don’t you wish you could’ve been more, Bobby? 

All the time, I replied, popping my mouth off the straw. If I could go back—

But what if you could guarantee a prosperous future?

I’ll be blunt. Bobby, you’re a fuck-up. More of a fuck-up than when your Aunt Jackie said, Honey…why don’t we take the convertible instead of the Cadillac? So many fuck-ups it was hard to keep track. The pills, the boozing, the lawsuits—

Who’s Mary? 

Wife…wife…Oh! Your wife! Huh, you hardly think about her. 

I would know, wouldn't I? 

You may not know it, kid, but I’ve gotten you out of a pinch before. Remember when you blacked out in Provincetown but were stone cold sober? Got picked up in your skivvies? 

It was incredible, kid, the Worm continued. Like I was a circuit board on your brain. My thoughts became your actions. I got us out of there. I didn’t want you to chafe at the burden of your obligations. We have too much to offer. You understand?

God, no! But your name’s got potential. 

If I got back up there and dug around, he said, I could have arenas chanting R-F-K! R-F-K!

Me…You…why’re you hung up on semantics? Think of it as a team effort. 

Bobby, Bobby. Just think if it all worked out. Imagine, you could put Kennedy back on the map. Not just some shill movie producer or Special Olympics ambassador. Bygone legacies with nothing to show for it. This could set you apart. A Kennedy back in politics. I’d even help with the personal stuff. Problems with Mary? Ancient history. I could even get you a new wife. A Hollywood match?

See, this is where you need me, kid. Can’t have some bombshell. We get ourselves a T.V. girl, and then it’s book deal, media circuit, we talk with four fat ladies on daytime television, and their fatties in the audience will clap like Cape Cod seals, and before you know it, you're the hot number for DC! 

It’s all about how you play the cards, Bobby.

Creeping around your head, he continued, taking a whiff of the fumes brought by the sea breeze, I saw what really goes on up there. The guilt weighs heavy, Bobby. Brother David. Speedballs. Basement nodoffs. You wanna prove your purpose but can’t help but fuck it up. It’s in your nature. We can use that to our advantage. America wants a redemption story. They want someone to say they can overcome their demons. Not because it is easy, but because it is hard. They just don’t realize the secret is a trust fund, countless second chances, and me guiding you along the way. But we can spare them those details. Can you imagine it? Humor me, and close your eyes.

It’s the Nevada primary. You’ve lost by double digits but did better than most pundits expected. You’re standing on the podium. New wife at your side. Ticker tape. Trombones. Straw hats. Waving to a cheering crowd. A giant poster unravels. Kennedy for President. Kennedy-Kennedy-Kennedy-Kennedy. They love you. But you announce the end of your candidacy. A man in a top hat, standing in the rafters is giving you the thumbs up because he’s your ticket and you’re the bandwagon he needs to reign into his camp, because enough people think what you say is true. It resonates with the coal miners, the dropouts, the internet chatrooms. It has the power to swing an election. Can you picture it, kid?

Do you trust me?

Fantastic! Now, in order for this dream to come true, I got to get up your Bay of Pigs!