“Miss Worm.” I gently asked.

“Y-Yes dear…?” The village worm nervously spoke, I could tell she was shook by the way her tail…shook.

“Why are you trying to put a bowl of chicken soup on the top of my head?”

Indeed.

With all the strength her slimy orange-pink tail could summon, she attempted to drown me in a bowl of scorching chicken soup, I can feel the steam burn my googly eyes.

“I-I’m trying to…feed…you…!” She calmly explained with strain in her voice, as I strongly resisted her strange antic.

“Feed me?” I asked, confused.

“Yes, feed! All good little boys need to eat, so be a good little boy and…eat…!”

I dodged, swiftly turning my head as I once again tumbled to the floor, my already healed wound reopening.

“L-Look what you’ve done, your wounds have reopened!”

The village worm rushed towards me and placed me back in bed with a struggle.

“You speak to me as if I’m a child. I might be, but my memories are still a little blurred, so I might also be an adult.” I spoke, annoyed. “And why do you keep insisting on dunking my head in chicken soup, you wouldn’t possibly want to drown me, would you? I might look weak now, but I can still kill you and take all your stuff, like jewelry or something.”

The village worm looked at me exhausted, resting her head on her tail as she remarked under her breath, “Why is this boy so chatty?”

It was only natural I was so chatty.

It had been a while, a long while since I’ve spoken to someone (excluding people (worms ( slither.io worms)) who’ve tried to kill me).

So, I could be reasonably excused for being so pestering, albeit slightly.

Picking up the partially spilled soup with the edge of her tail, the village worm pitifully begged, “Please just eat your chicken soup. Your wounds will never recover if you don’t eat.”

My heart sank, I felt guilty making someone caring for me so upset, so I nodded my head in compliance.

“W-wait, I already said I didn’t want to get dunked in chicken soup!”

I backed off as soon as she touched my head.

“T-Then how am I supposed to feed you?!”

“With my mouth!”

The village worm froze.

“M-mouth…?” She tilted her head in confusion, her googly eyes slowly being engulfed in horror as I pointed to where she had avoided looking ever since she came back to her cottage home.

“R-right…that…‘thing’.” She fearfully spoke, the bowl she was holding slightly shaking.

Damn, I slipped up.

But it would have happened sooner or later. It was impossible for her to completely avoid something so abnormal and pretend everything is fine.

I wanted to comfort her, but it would be kind of awkward when I was the very thing she feared.

“I’m guessing you don’t have a spoon?” I joked.

“S-spoon?”

“I guessed corr—”

“Yes, I have a spoon.” The village worm casually spoke as she plopped down from her chair and hurriedly went to where I assume is the kitchen.

She not only did she know what a spoon was, but she also had one?

I was surprised, but after giving it a little thought, I no longer was.

She wears people clothes and speaks people language, why the fuck wouldn’t she have a spoon?

Slithering back into the living room, she propped herself back in her chair and handed me a wooden spoon, it was beautifully carved with small little butterflies being seen at the tip of the handle.

“…”

“…”

“…aren’t you going to hold it?” She couldn’t help but ask.

“I don’t know how.”

“…”

“…”