Snakes Worms and MAGGOTS!

I would say it stems from my grandmothers this fear of mine. Both are terrified of snakes yet both are southern women. Neither is fearful of mice, which I find odd, their reasoning behind it is that they pretty much grew up with them and it’s a problem they had to deal with. Both my mother and father’s mothers don’t understand how a woman could be afraid of mice and find the fear laughable.

My mother is the reverse of my grandmothers she fears mice and loves snakes. She feels she should not fear the creature that eats the thing she fears.
I on the other hand don’t fear snakes but worms and maggots could cause me a heart attack. My mother finds it comical, a boy afraid of worms and maggots. I will admit I tried the whole torture of the worms gig when I was younger but if one was to ever get on me, well I’ll leave it to you imagination. When I would find one on the side walk after it had rained I would quickly shutter and take a giant step over it quickly and allow it to continue its journey to where ever it thought it might find dirt.

You can imagine my difficulty in taking out the trash in the spring and summer. My uncle told me of a true horror story that happened to him, he and I have the same fear.
One cool summer evening my uncle had delayed in taking out the trash. So he had to do it under nightfall. In the back yard there was no light so with it being dark it could not clearly see the trash cans. Much to his dismay he soon found out that the can were covered in maggots. Just when he relized why the can appeared to be moving, he found himself to be covered. horror-struck he screamed while trying to become uncovered.

Hearing the cries for help my grand mother rushed to the back yeard to find her baby boy being attacked by evile morsels of white larvae. Screaming she at once truied to help him. The two of them standing in the backyeard in fear and trying to become free. While trying to help her son she inturn became covered and they both ended up trying to release the other.
Each and every time my uncle tries to tell this story I become so engulfed with fear that I skip past the dramatic details and ask how he became free. He would then say “I ran to the shower, then poured bleach all over the trash cans.”

My cousins and aunts would laugh hysterically at this story but I feel my uncle’s trauma. However I must admit it is quite comical.

The first and only time I went down to meet my fathers extended family, I went with my grand mother her friend and my aunt. It was the last night and in true southern tradition we went house to house to say good bye. Luckily for us everyone lived in quite close proximity.
Unfortunately, for my grandmother the field we had to cross had haughty grass and was poorly lit. me having knowledge of her fear of sneaks I formed the perfect prank. When she was distracted in conversation I took my finger and rubbed her ankle while making a hissing sound. I kid you not when I say she jumped three feet in the air. When she realized what had happened she retorted in a loving mannor, “Victor I’m a knock the shit out a you.” We all laughed harder. One time was funnie but three times were priceless. Each time was just as effective as the first. I could tell my grandmotrher was not as into it as the rest ofd us so I left it at three.

So that in a nut shell is proof that fears are hereditary.