Title: Horrors! 11 - The Earwig Song Author: Mr_Sympathy Pastebin link: http://pastebin.com/X8abgBnm First Edit: Sunday 5th of April 2015 01:42:52 AM CDT Last Edit: Sunday 5th of April 2015 01:42:52 AM CDT The Earwig Song by M. Christian   Who knows where he picked it up. Elevator background. Channel surfing. Radio just too loud in a passing car. Maybe even from someone's absent, and callous whistling. But it was there.   At first it was just annoying: the same dozen or so notes, the endless repeating chords?-the same tune over and over and over again. Annoying at first, but after the second day of being unable to sleep for the idiotically simple song playing in his head, Mel Rose started to worry.   The tune was loud and continuous. Dudda dee dum-dum dadda dee da da dum dee?-"Not much I can do," said his doctor, shaking his gray locks as he wrote out a script for some industrial-grade sleeping pills.   That night he slept. Yes, he slept, but in his dreams a marching band with slack and unthinking faces trampled Mel with the same tune over and over.   "Any anxiety in your life?" his psychiatrist asked, jotting down on his pad what might have been musical notes or "Needs Extensive Treatment". Mel Rose couldn't say for certain. He left with another script for even stronger pills and an appointment for the day after.   Mel's thoughts became?-broken?-dee?-and-dum-dum?-dee-and-dum-dum-cramped-dee dee-like-dee-they-dum-dum-were-being-dum dee-squeezed-dee-out.   He tried loud, continuous music. Mel put on every CD he owned; music fighting music. The Beatles didn't have a chance. "Knights in White Satin" fell without a sound. "Ode to Joy" collapsed. "Stand by Your Man" faded away. Even a "TV Themes and Commercials" CD didn't last through the "Plop-Plop, Fizz Fizz" jingle. They all fell to the-da dum dum-tune.   Mel didn't know what his thoughts sounded like anymore. His mental voice was completely gone, replaced by the constant tune. It seemed to grow within him, even taking his memories. At first it was just his youngest memories, but then he had a hard time remembering things like his mother's name, his brother's face, where he banked, what city he lived in. Gone, replaced by-dee dum dee dum dum-the tune.   It started to leak. Against his will, his feet began to tap, his fingers started to drum, and he found himself whistling everywhere. It was hard to talk without humming the tune, without interrupting his crying and screaming and mad outbursts with fragments of it.   He almost didn't hear the knock on his door for the tune. Luckily, he noticed the hammering wasn't part of the song and opened the door. A very tall black man, a quick sketch of a man in charcoal and highlights, stood in the hall. Long black coat. Black felt hat. Impenetrable sunglasses. Earmuffs. Saxophone case under one long arm. He handed Mel a card: I KNOW YOU CAN'T HEAR ME. I'VE COME TO TRY AND HELP.   The man came in, put down his case, and set to work. With quick, long fingers he touched and stroked and felt Mel's mouth and skull, even opening his mouth to reach back to the base of his tongue, almost making Mel gag. After many minutes of this, the man handed him a new card: I THINK I CAN HELP.   Then the man opened his sax case and took out a tape recorder. Making sure his earmuffs were on snug and secure, he passed Mel a card: SING.   Mel did. For almost an hour Mel sang into the battered little tape recorder. He sang till his lungs hurt and it was hard to breathe. He sang till his hands shook and his eyes didn't focus anymore. As he sang and sang and sang he felt the tune uncoil and unwind out of him.   Then it was out, gone. The black man switched off the recorder.   The world, to Mel, was sound and noise and chaos. Everything in his tiny apartment was nearly deafening: the drip from his faucet, the hum of the refrigerator, the howl of the gently wind outside.   It was magnificent.   The black man picked up his case and turned to go, all but ignoring Mel's tears of pure joy and abundant thanks. He refused everything, including money.   Opening the door, he stopped for a second to give Mel another card. Then, tears wetting his face below his dark glasses, he left, closing the door behind him.   IT WAS FEMALE. IT LAID EGGS INSIDE YOU. SORRY.