by Jeff Currier

For Max, it began as a low rumbling chuckle. For Helen, a delicate tittering giggle. Inevitably though, it slowly swelled, gleeful chortling burgeoning into gut-clenching rambunctious hilarity.

Like all laughter, it was contagious. It spread unchecked, a convulsing wave of mirth, drowning the entire world in uproarious pandemonium.

They tried regaining control. But through their rising trepidation, their desperate howling tears, the unbridled raucous cachinnation only grew. Mutated. Into hysterical cackling terror.

Abruptly Max collapsed, a broken empty harlequin, his prefrontal cortex cerebral tissue all consumed. Helen, and everyone else, soon followed. The brain parasites had finally gorged themselves silly.

Jeff Currier

Jeff writes little stories. Find more @jffcurrier on X or Jeff Currier Writes on Facebook.