Nobody Hearts Me, Everybody Hates Me, I’m Gonna Eat Some Worms
Am I a glutton for punishment or for annelids?
I’ve never eaten worms.
Or even Gooeyduck for that matter. You know those funny-looking, okay, penis-looking protrusions sticking out of clamshells in the seafood shop?
At age 68, I have no intention of starting now. Unless someone has a convincing argument. Or figures out how to make them Florentine style–which is the only way I’ll eat oysters.
For the record, I haven’t eaten tripe, or brains, or kidneys as far as I know. But as a kid we had our weekly portion of liver. For the iron. We had to eat it. Do they still do that?
I pass on gizzards, lizards, and wizards–though I’ve never seen the latter two on the menu. They just rhyme. I don’t eat raw sushi or sashimi either.
Not to say that you can’t feed an old dog new licks, but it would be a very hard sell. The nose and the taste buds are connected for good reason, after all. For protection as well as detection, right?
So where am I going with all this?
Besides down the toilet. I was going to say drain, but I’ve been on a potty-humor bent lately. And I have a top writer badge to maintain.
What? There’s no top writer badge for potty humor? Or scatological sarcasm, or toilet bowl business tips? Why not? What a mist or rather missed opportunity. Someone should start a publication just for this crap. And then you wouldn’t be suffering now.
But that’s beside the point.
The point is, finally, after either warming you up, or turning you cold, that I could sure use some help.
Some of you may know I’m a prompt-aholic. I can’t seem to pass them up.
Lately, I’ve branched over into challenges. Kinda like going from pot to heroin. But now that I am more than halfway to my goal, I’m determined to stick it out. I may be a loser, but I’m not a quitter. Or something that rhymes with a quitter.
They say that self-deprecating humor is pretty high on the charts. How about self-defecating humor? That one of the malapropisms I promptly played with late last year—a sh*t load of fun.
But I still digress. Sorry.
And I still need your help, so let me ‘splain.
I entered a Challenge that prompted the contestants to start their own Substack newsletter, which I was checking out anyway.
And one of the many steps submitting a story to the sponsoring pub’s Substack magazine. Which I did. To stay in the running for the final vote, that story has to garner 100 hearts. By the 15th of February.
Friends, as of this writing, I have 60!
To be sure, I am damn proud of those 60 hearts. It means 60 different people have read or at least skimmed my story–about going from sadsack AKA Duddles the Clown and Melancholy Marilyn to Substack AKA Sacred Foolishness.
That’s more than read most of my Medium posts!
So in a sense, I’ve already won. Many of them—some of which are you!—have subscribed as well. Which is the whole point. So thank you!!!
But to stay in the running I still need a total of 100. That’s 6 or so a day.
So I get to practice something I kinda dread–shameless self-promotion. Just because I’m curious to see what happens. Will you click the heart with a been there, had to do that, too smile of recognition?
Or will you unsubscribe, unfriend, unfollow, and unlike me?
Probably some of each. It’s a learning experience.
Besides, down here at my level, this bottom feeder–see back to the scat already–doesn’t have a lot to lose.
So if I haven’t totally turned you off, here is a link to my story.
Yes, you have to click on it. Then click on one of the two hearts. One is at the top of the post, one is at the bottom. You may be taken to another page to do that. You can even leave a comment. Feel free to tell me I’m full of sh*t, but you’re doing me a favor just this one time, cause, well, just because.
And let me thank you all from the bottom and the top and the middle of my heart. I promise not to make this a regular thing. Here you go:
From Melancholy Malarkey to Sacred Foolishness
She was a very serious child. The kind of seriousness that children who grow up around too much booze and sexy talk… coffeetimes12.substack.com
Marilyn Flower writes humor to laugh the changes she wants to see and make. She’s the author of Creative Blogging: Ninja Writers Guide to Character Development and Bucket Listers, Get Your Brave On. Clowning and improvisation strengthen her resolve during these crazy times. Stay in touch!
Nobody Hearts Me, Everybody Hates Me, I’m Gonna Eat Some Worms
Thanks for the irreverent rabbit trail you followed for this one, Marilyn! A sense of humor starts as a survival tactic. Some of us are able to turn it into coin later on.