$50.00
I opened the Andarin Ade & Other Stories 4c90 boxset. The insert rattled like it had teeth. The sculpture leaned menacingly, a pile of angular shapes that somehow knew I was hungry. Hungry for something impossible. Hungry for knee bones. Two thousand knee bones. They were stacked, orderly, in a spiral that defied space, and I ate them. One. Two. Three. A thousand. Two thousand. And I kept going.
I ate them for 1000222222 years. Time flattened into bone fragments and echoes. The cassette hummed in sympathy, Side A hissing with rage, Side B gnawing quietly, the voices of the stories weaving around my jaw. Andarin Ade… Andarin Ade… The sculpture whispered, metallic teeth scraping my thoughts, urging me onward.
Among the bones, larvae appeared. Flesh fly larvae, creamy white, maturing to reddish-pink. Cylindrical, long, narrow heads. Human botfly larvae, the white maggots, ringed with dark spines, moving through their three grotesque stages. Horse botfly larvae, burrowing, off-white, sharp at one end, blunt at the other, wriggling between the knee bones. They whispered in the rhythm of chewing, gnawing along with my jaw, keeping me company.
The cassette hummed. The insert rattled. The sculpture scraped. Knee bones dissolved and reformed in my mouth. The larvae multiplied, twisted, grew longer, darker, cylindrical. Time stretched like chewing gum made of cartilage. One end blunt, one end pointy. I chewed, I gnawed, I swallowed. The larvae nested in the bones, nested in the cassette, nested in me.
Beneath the murky waves, the dying weeds swayed in slow, mournful circles, their brittle tips scraping the sediment. From their tangled vantage, they saw him: a figure hunched over the Andarin Ade & Other Stories 4c90 boxset, the cassette humming faintly, Side A hissing like a serpent, Side B gnawing quietly, almost hungry. The sculpture beside him twisted impossibly, a jagged sprawl of metal and bone that seemed alive.
He ate. Knee bones—two thousand, and counting—crunched between his teeth with echoes that reached the weeds, who trembled at the sound. 1000222222 years passed like ripples in the water. Time bent. The bones multiplied. They spiraled endlessly, forming labyrinths within his jaws, spilling onto the floor, slithering back into his mouth as if guided by invisible hands.
Larvae appeared, wriggling like tiny spectral worms in the water. Flesh fly larvae, creamy white, maturing reddish-pink. Human botfly larvae, cylindrical, ringed with dark spines. Horse botfly larvae, off-white, one end pointy, one end blunt. They moved in rhythm with the chewing, nesting in bones, cassette grooves, sculpture edges. The weeds shivered, brushing against each other like shivering witnesses.
The cassette hummed louder, voices of Andarin Ade weaving into the underwater murk. Insert rattled, metal sculpture scraped, and every movement of jaw and larvae stirred currents through the dying weeds. Each weed bent closer, watching the spiral of bones and larvae consume itself in an endless, grinding feast.
From this watery vantage, the passage of 1000222222 years made no difference. The bones dissolved and reformed, the larvae multiplied, twisting into each other, cylindrical and spined. Sculpture creaked, the boxset whispered, Side A hissing, Side B gnawing, murmuring stories that the weeds could not comprehend but felt as vibrations through their brittle stems.
He did not stop. Chewing, gnawing, swallowing. Bones, larvae, cassette hums, sculpture scraping—all merged into a single relentless ritual. Cylindrical, creamy, reddish, off-white, spined, blunt, pointy. Two thousand knee bones. Infinite larvae. Infinite chewing. The weeds bent, swayed, bent again, trapped in currents of gnawing sound, unable to move, only to witness.
Occasionally, a larva slipped free, wriggling into the water, brushing the tips of weeds like a tickling horror. Insert rattled in protest. Sculpture twisted impossibly. He opened the boxset and whispered words no one alive—or dead—could understand. Side A hisses. Side B gnaws. Bones and larvae fold into each other. Chew. Swallow. Multiply. Spiral. Coil. The weeds bent further, murmuring, groaning, drowning in the echoes of infinite teeth, infinite larvae, infinite Andarin Ade.
And still, the chewing continued.
1000222222 years. I grew old. I grew young again. The knee bones never ended. They multiplied, spiraled into infinity. The larvae sang in tongues I could not understand, their spines scraping rhythms across my teeth. The sculpture twisted in impossible ways, pointing and blunt, mirroring the larvae, mimicking my teeth, echoing the bones.
Andarin Ade whispered from Side B, the stories unreadable but alive. Insert rattling, boxset humming, larvae wriggling, bone crunching. Cylindrical, creamy, reddish, off-white, narrow, blunt, spined, gnawing, chewing, swallowing. I existed only as mouthfuls of knee bones, larvae, cassette hiss, sculpture scrape, infinite chewing, infinite time.
Simple Ways to Reduce Stress with PNH? Ha. No. There is no stress. Only chewing. Only bones. Only larvae. Only Andarin Ade. Only 1000222222 years of gnawing, swallowing, chewing. Cylindrical, pointy, blunt, spined. Knee bones. Knee bones. Knee bones. Larvae wriggling. Side A hisses. Side B gnaws. Sculpture scratches. Insert rattles.