Deven VanKirk was raised in the Midwest and has lived all over the eastern half of the United States. He enjoys hiking and camping. He lives in southern Illinois with his wife, son and three dogs.
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911
by
Deven VanKirk
The line had been ringing for at least fifteen minutes; he was certain. He was jumping from foot to foot to get the damn things off him.
“911, what is your emergency?”
His voice sounded frantic. “Finally, finally you picked up!” He yelled into the phone. The operator repeated, “911, what is your emergency?”
“There are bugs everywhere. They’re coming out of my skin.” He was panicking and
crying. He didn’t even fucking care, he just wanted the damn things to go away!
“Sir, you said there are bugs coming out of your skin?” the dispatcher asked to confirm
what he had said.
“Yeah, they’re coming out of my fucking skin.”
“What’s your location, sir?” The voice of the dispatcher remained calm.
How were they so calm? Didn’t they realize what kind of horror he was experiencing?
“I’m at the park, in the restroom. Please hurry, they’re crawling out of my dick, they’re crawling out of my fucking ball sack!” he practically screamed through the phone. “I’m not hallucinating. I’ve done that before, and this is not that.”
“Sir, I’m dispatching an ambulance right now. They will be there soon,” the dispatcher stated.
“Okay. Good.” He hung up the phone.
He stood there, shaking, bawling as the bugs continued to crawl out of his pores. They were there; they were really fucking there. This was fucking happening, for real. “Get the fuck off of me!” he screamed through his tears.
What the hell were they? He wanted to know, but then, he also didn’t because the reality was too terrifying. His dick hung limply in front of his pants. He didn’t want to touch it, afraid the bugs would crawl all over his hands. They were seriously coming out of the skin of his cock and balls! Ants – they looked like motherfucking ants!
He was lightheaded and breathing hard, determined not to pass out, even though his head was spinning like the night he’d drunk five Hazy IPAs that were all 14% alcohol. I don’t want to die, he thought, not today, not like this. How the fuck did these goddamn ants get inside me?
What if they’re not ants, he wondered, what if they’re something else entirely? What, he didn’t know. Was that an ambulance siren he heard? No, no, it wasn’t. He’d imagined it. Fucking idiot! They should be here by now, he thought. I called like an hour ago! Where the fuck are they?
“Oh my God, fucking hurry up!” he yelled at no one except the ants. There was a far-off sound, and he was certain it was the ambulance. “About fucking time!” he mumbled.
Time passed, he wasn’t sure how much time, and then someone was pounding on the bathroom door.
“Sir, it’s the paramedics. Open the door so we can help you,” the man said. It sounded like his dad. That wasn’t a paramedic. That was his dad! “You’re not a paramedic. You’re my fucking dad!”
He heard a different voice this time, not his dad’s. Definitely not his dad’s. “We’re here to help you, sir, please open the door.”
“Okay, okay. But stand back, these things are everywhere!”
Unlocking the door, he threw it open and saw swarms of the tiny insects, ants – whatever the fuck they were – escaping into the park.
“You see them, right! I’m not hallucinating again!”
The paramedics looked around and then back at him. “Yes, sir, we see them.”
“Get them off me, out of me! Kill them.”
“Sir, we will, but you’ve got to try to calm down so we can,” one of the paramedics
calmly replied.
“Ok, I’m calm,” he stated.
“What’s your name, sir?”
He told them his name, his address, and answered every question they had. He thought they knew he wasn’t calm. Of course he wasn’t fucking calm. The ants were still all over him. How could he be calm when there were bugs crawling all over and out of his skin?
🐜
Struggling against the restraints, his eyes flew open. He tried to move his arms and legs, but something fastened them in place. If he could just figure out where he was, but no. He couldn’t move his head.
Where the fuck was he? What was happening? Why couldn’t he fucking move? He tried to speak but was unable to because something had been shoved in his mouth. It must have been some kind of gag. Again, he tried to strain against his restraints, to no avail. He was absolutely livid, fighting to get free.
“Now, now, calm down, Mr. Smith.”
Where was that voice coming from? Was it his left side, or his right? He couldn’t tell. “We’re here to help you, Mr. Smith,” the voice said. It was a male voice, a calm male
voice. Where had he heard it before?
A nurse appeared on his right side, near his head, and a doctor appeared on the opposite
side. He felt something touch the sides of his head.
“You won’t be having any more of those worrisome dreams, Mr. Smith. We’re going to get you right as rain in no time.” It was the nurse who spoke this time.
“When we’re finished, you won’t be dreaming of bugs anymore, Mr. Smith.” Now the doctor spoke, in that same calm voice. He knew where he’d heard the voice, where he had been hearing the voice. He also understood where he was.
Tears stung his eyes. He let them fall.
He swore he could hear the technician on the other side of the room, moving the dial. How much would it be this time? He never knew the answer. What was the point in even wondering?
He was certain he felt or heard the doctor nod. A moment later, as the electricity coursed through his entire body, he screamed and screamed. It didn’t matter. When the electricity stopped, he swore they were laughing.