(A Thursday evening at the micro-brewery. A conversation just concluded concerning where hotdogs come from.)
"You know what you never see as the main character of a book?"
"So now we're going from hotdogs to books?"
"Look. They do NOT put worm meat in hotdogs. Get real. That would have to be illegal."
"What kind of worm?"
"An earthworm. You know, a normal worm. Or maybe a night crawler."
"I think so."
"Don't you think there's already a children's book about a worm?"
"Could be. But I mean serious fiction. Literature."
"That's a tall order, isn't it?"
"Not at all."
"Look, earthworms don't talk. They don't have language. How are they even going to tell a story? The very notion of how we portray drama does not apply to worms."
"My friend, the mind of a worm is a mysterious thing. Who knows what kind of thoughts worms noodle on."
"Can we not use 'worms' and 'noodles' in the same sentence?"
"You want drama? Just look outside there. See how cold it is? Those are snowflakes. The ground must be getting hard and frozen. The worm world is changing. You have to go deep. You have to get away from the cold. No more sun to keep you warm."
"Um, worms shrivel up and die in the sun. My dog used eat them off the pavement. Like crunchy little snacks."
"Think of the trials and tribulations! Think of the epic struggles!"
"I'm pretty sure that if you use the phrase 'trials and tribulations' with any book, it has to be bad."
"...a whole new angle on the human experience. Exploring our inner worm."
"That's just gross."
"I think I'm going to jot down some ideas before I forget them. Do you have a notepad or something?"
"Do you remember when you tried to write that poem in high school? You had such a hard time with it, you actually had some sort of nervous breakdown and cried. Mr. Smith finally asked you if he should call your mom."
"You were eighteen years old."
"QUICK, BEFORE I LOSE IT!!"
"Yeah. That's how you looked when it started to happen. Better give me your mom's number just in case I'm going to need it."