#Uncle Potato Chip the worm

[smolwormadventures]

“Uncle Potato Chip sends his regards and him rocking out to a concert of a town he was passing through. We got him hooked on fruit boba tea!🧋 He said that particular song takes him back to a time when he was young.”

[spoke9]

Levi Romero

Woodstove of My Childhood

woodstove of my childhood

where potatoes cut like triangle chips were fried

in manteca de marrano

woodstove of lazy autumn smoke swirling away

to nowhere

woodstove of December

evacuating the cold chill at sunrise

woodstove of celebration and mourning

of post-World War II Korea y Vietnam

woodstove corner that kept vigil over

drunken nodding remembrance

woodstove corner where uncles primos compadres

gathered on visits from Califas

woodstove corner with a warm ear for nostalgia

where Mama Ane stirred the atole and wrung her hands

thumb over thumb praying for her children's children's children

woodstove that witnessed six decades washing its face at the vandeja

that saw western swing dancing in dim lantern flame

that watched Elvis come in from across the llano strumming

a mail-order Stella and singing in Spanish

woodstove

of the feast lamb tied up under the crabapple tree

of early sour cherries ripening above the cornstalk horizon

of neighbors bartering a cup of sugar

in exchange for mitote and conversation

woodstove of rain tenderly pouring into the afternoon

and salt sprinkling onto the patio from the mouth of the porch

woodstove of the nighttime crackling softly

of harmonious harmonica medleys

blowing before bedtime prayer

woodstove facing John F. Kennedy's

picture on the wall

woodstove of Protestant Sundays

ringing without bells

woodstove of dark earth

fat worms and acequias

woodstove of 1960s propaganda

and all the rich hippies knocking poorly at the screen door

woodstove of private crazy laughter

of woodpeckers pecking through rough-hewn

barn timbers only to meet the sky

of rabbits nervously nibbling evening away

in the arroyo

of the water bucket banging and splashing

all the way home

woodstove of the water drop sizzle

of buñuelos and biscochitos and flour on the chin

of chokecherry jam dropping out

from the end of a tortilla

woodstove

that heard Mentorcito's violin bringing in the new year

that saw Tío Eliseo bring in an armload of wood

that heard Tío Antonio coming down the road

whistling a corrido and swinging his cane

woodstove of the blessed noontime

and Grandma Juanita heating up the caldito

woodstove of the sanctified and untamed holy spirit

of the dream awake dreamers

prophesizing in the beginning how the end would come

of creaking trochil gates left open forever

of twisted caved-in gallineros rocking

in weeping April wind

of abandoned orchards waist deep

in desánimo

of teardrops that held back the laughter

of the penitente procession moving through the hills

for the soul of the village

woodstove of the wounded faithful proudly

concealing their scars

woodstove of armpit farts and bedtime giggles

of pitchforks and axes under the bed in case of intruders

of coffee cans filled with everything but coffee

of ten cents for a cream soda at Corrina's

of strawberry Nehis and a bag of chili chips at Medina's

of a handful of bubble gum acá Santos's

woodstove of genius wisdom dressed up as the village idiot

of hand-me-down stories locked away

in the dispensa

of bien loco local heroes cracking homeruns

Saturday afternoons en la cañada

woodstove

of all that and more of all that disappearing

as children played hide 'n' seek in that abandoned goodtime feeling

while stumbling on the footsteps of tradition

woodstove that heard the fall of a people rising in silence

that died of a loneliness without cure

that cured itself in the company

of the so many more lonely

woodstove of my childhood

[xaviernottheprofessor]

QUICK FACTS:

LEGAL NAME: Xavier Dmitry Mitchell 

NICKNAMES: N/A

DOB/AGE: Dec 31, 1991/ 32

GENDER: Cis Male

PRONOUNS: He/Him

SEXUAL ID: Bisexual 

HEIGHT: 5'9"

APPROXIMATE WEIGHT: 192 lbs. 

LANGUAGES: English and French

GLASSES/CONTACTS: Glasses and contacts 

TATTOOS/PIERCINGS: both ears pierced, left helix. no tattoos 

ALLERGIES: Bee venom, dust

OTHER HEALTH ISSUES/DISORDERS: Anxiety and asthma 

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Ravenclaw

FAITH/RELIGION/PHILOSOPHY: Christian 

POSITIVE TRAITS (3): Dependable, loyal, funny

NEGATIVE TRAITS (3): impatient, anxious, and disruptive 

HOBBIES & ACTIVITIES:

Dancing, doing his nails, writing, laughing, hanging out with friends, reading 

LIKES/FAVORITES:

foods/cuisine– Ethiopian and Indian 

movie genres– Horror, Comedy 

flower– Marigolds 

snacks– Lucky Charms, Green pepper potato chips, Hot Cheetos

music genres– Classic Rock, Top 40, R & B 

season– Fall 

book genre– mystery, true crime

animal– dogs 

candy–  Starbursts and gummi worms 

BIOGRAPHY (tw abandonment) 

Xavier and his twin brother Clayton were born in Flatbush, New York in the middle of NYC being in crisis. Between the drug wars and the rising crime, it wasn’t exactly the best place to raise children. And it wasn’t like their parents wanted to or rather, it wasn’t like their grandparents wanted them. Born to two clueless 16 year olds, Xavier and Clayton were placed into the foster care system at age three. After bouncing from one home to another, they were adopted at age six by Susana and Dorian Mitchell. Their adopted parents gave them the life they had always dreamed of and when the twins turned eight, the Mitchell family moved to London where they’d be raised by a series of au pairs. 

Clayton was the quiet one. He looked up to Xavier and followed his every word. They were inseparable and attached by the hip until high school when Clayton met the love of his life, Athena. Athena and Clayton married young, had twins and Xavier was promoted to the cool uncle. However, his desire to live his life and not make any attachments along the way led him to failed relationships and odd jobs. At 26, he made the decision to move back to New York City to keep searching for what he always felt he was missing and start a new chapter in his life. 

Being the oldest of the twins, he made it known to his brother almost every day (in jest of course) and he carried a sense of responsibility with him. Whether it was to make sure his brother and family were always taken care of or that he checked on them on a daily basis, Xavier would make sure till this day he wouldn’t abandon his brother. 

After a couple of stints as a stand up comedian, Xavier landed his dream job; writing for SNL (Saturday Night Laughs). He has even starred in a couple of sketches making him a household name for many. He was a known playboy, partying every night, dating different people every other week and the life of every event. Even though he knew deep down inside he was still missing something, he often chose to bury those thoughts in exchange for a good laugh. As his brother always says, Xavier learned to hide behind his jokes. In an effort to set Xavier up, Clayton would try to get him to new people but the older twin was hardly interested. Everyone seemed a little too...vanilla for him. 

When a casting call memo fell on his lap, Xavier couldn’t help but guffaw at the suggestion. Was this his brother sending him signals from across the pond or was this just another bet he could take on for the sake of good television? Just think about the ratings...

Didn’t even take too much liquid courage before he was doing screen tests and taking photo ops. Forget the Bachelor...time to get ship wrecked. 

[severingt]

Bert, My Maternal Grandfather

Sometimes I think I remember things about granddad Frewin, my maternal grandfather, but then I remember that it was on film and so I’m not sure. However, he was the first relative to die, thus making an unforgettable mark. I used to stay at their house on Friday nights, I don’t know why. I did spend much more time there than with my paternal grandparents. I used to sit on the settee and he would sit in an armchair, near the big art deco Philips radio, by the door into the glass roofed conservatory. He was a tall guy, but then everyone looks tall to a 9 year old. He held himself well, even though he wasn’t a well man. A proud man, I think. He was well proportioned too, not an ounce of fat on him. He was quite dark skinned, no tattoos – unusual for a naval man, most of his hair was still there, thick eyebrows and the skin on his face looked well weathered, as old sea dogs often are. He joined the navy before he should, or so legend has it, lying about his age to get in. That was it I think, he became an electrician and after his seafaring days were over he worked in Portsmouth dockyard. It was also said that after a lifetime of being an electrician, his fingers became so used to electricity that he had to lick them to make the shock greater, so he could feel it; well that’s what I was told. He was a friendly old bloke. We would sit there watching the TV and every so often he would relight his roll up cigarette, which was a brand called ‘Black Beauty’ which came in silver foil and had a picture of an African woman on the front. I did a bit of research on the net about this brand and in something written by John McVicar, he mentioned it only being available in prisons; well, it’s been replaced there now by Drum tobacco, but interesting. His breathing was a problem, often coughing and wheezing followed by relighting his roll up and taking a long drag from it. Ironic now, typical then. I do remember feeling close to him but cannot remember why, I guess it’s because I spent at least one night a week there. Anyway, he used to tend his garden that had a huge rhubarb plant on the left hand side as you looked down it; and an old tin bath used then for collecting rainwater just outside of the conservatory. He also had an allotment somewhere, I feel sure. There was also a coal shed in the garden nearer the house on the left too. The house was an old fashioned design, probably built around the turn of the century, that was quite prevalent in Portsmouth; a long hallway down the left and front room, then kitchen on the right then slimming down to the back room then on to the glass roofed conservatory. In the side alley was access to the outside toilet and a table up against next doors wall and the kitchen window. On this table, and under it, were earthenware jars that he used for his winemaking. These were mainly vegetable wines, as opposed to fruit. I inherited his recipe book and once made potato wine, it was really nice too; sweet as I remember and no waste as the boiled potatoes could be sliced and fried. Something that is on film but it feels like a memory is him going off to the Royal Naval Electricians Association meetings, very smartly dressed with grey trousers and navy blue blazer with a emblem of some kind, probably naval, on the breast pocket. I can also remember waiting for his return, often running to meet him as he turned the corner. ‘Watcha’ cock!’ he used to say to me as a greeting. It used to make me smile and still does as I’m sitting here bashing the keys, grinning broadly. I remember meeting one of his brothers, Uncle Jim, around London way and going to his daughters wedding where I mistook tomato juice for raspberry juice – what a taste surprise that was! My first time in Malta, I went with my grandparents for a month and at two weeks we were joined by my parents and brother. The apartment we stayed in was at the top of a hill, which I now know to be the Savoy hill. We had to walk slowly up the hill as my grand father regularly got short of breath. He used to send me down to the shop every morning to buy a Times of Malta for him and a Bounty for me. I can still taste the only just solid chocolate wrapped around the sweet, sweating coconut – pure heaven. When they started advertising Bounty, many years later, saying that you should cool them in the fridge, it was anathema to me – put them in the oven and serve at 35 degrees Celsius, I say! We used to eat in Sliema, in a place called the Army and Navy. You had to walk downstairs to get into the place and when there, you noticed it was covered from floor to ceiling with white square tiles. It was what we would describe as a ‘greasy spoon’ type café. There was nothing wrong with it at all, fresh Maltese rolls on the table and good, honest food at very reasonable prices. I can remember 9d (at that time, the Maltese used English currency) for a starter-sized plate of spaghetti bolognaise; 1/-6d for a big one! My grandfather would not sit on the same table as us if we had spaghetti; he used to describe it as a plate of worms! I think he was very much a meat and two veg. type of guy. One night we went out to a place near Manoel Island in Gzira to eat, which is still there to this day. I remember it being quite a dimly lit place and we sat outside looking out over the sea, we all had fish and chips. Either in this café or very nearby, bingo was being played as I could clearly hear the numbers being called. Then, suddenly, my granddad let out a scream and an expletive I think, and took something from his mouth and threw it into the sea, which was only feet away. I was shocked and a little scared as this was completely out of character for this gentle old man. It turned out that in the dim light my grandfather had mistaken a slice of lemon placed on his plate to garnish the fish, for a chip, put it in his mouth and bitten into it, which was followed moments later by the scream. It’s still funny, even now some 40 years later. One day we went for a walk, he and I, along Msida; there’s a park / gardens there and you can sit and look at all the moored wealth on display. He got chatting to some guy whilst sitting on a park bench and I listen as he retold his story. It was quite funny hearing him recounting his life to a stranger, as he lapsed into slang. At one point he said ‘and so I met this Maltese bird, married her and took her back to England’. It’s strange to hear my grandmother referred to as a ‘bird’. I don’t remember what time of year it was, but I think it was 1967. I think this because it was the year we went to New York and granddad and my father were not coming; then after my grandfather died, my father did come. Anyway, I must have been 10 years old. I think it was a weekend as my uncle was at my paternal grandparents and he lived out of town, maybe Bath at that time? The emotion rises even after all this time. Anyway, I was at my other grandparent’s house, I guess to see my uncle and cousins. I just remember being told that granddad had died. I was so sad, I cried and was inconsolable. My dad didn’t try too hard, as usual, but my uncle tried to calm me down. I can remember my brother and cousin tucking in to Sunday lunch, I think; and remember wondering why no-one else seemed upset. It was a bad experience, made worse by the lack of empathy or support. I wasn’t allowed to go to the funeral, so I don’t know what it was like or where it was. I only remember my mum saying that his wish was to be buried at sea. So they cremated him and his ashes were taken out to sea by the Commodore's launch which was arranged by the undertaker as he told us the navy did that for their ex-servicemen. It was his wish to retire to Malta; he didn’t make it, he didn’t even make retirement, I think. Granddad Frewin died in 1968, aged 64 And that’s it; those are all my memories of my maternal grandfather.

[smolwormadventures]

“Uncle has been obtained.”

[smolwormadventures]

“Had to make an account just to get this audio 🙄 but bless Uncle for the treats! We stayed in this year due to our situation still being shit but Uncle brought us lots of goodies!”

[smolwormadventures]

“Everyone, guess what! Uncle Potato Chip’s friend made it out of surgery! He sent me a picture!”

“He said when he called that it took a long while but they managed. He was on the phone with me when he walked in and the conversation went as followed:”

“Hey, hey, look who made it out of surgery.”

“Mmmmn.”

“Yeah, I bet. Heard they made you handsome.”

“MmmI waaaffs hamsthm beferr.”

“No, no, I know you are. I’m teasing in horrible taste. Has your brother been by yet?”

“Mmmmnnn.”

“Oh, good. I’ll try to catch him if he’s coming back soon. Can I get you anything? How long are you in for?”

…

“Ah, okay. That’s not bad though. Should be in tip top shape by the weekend.”

“Mmmm.”

“Right right. Alright, hey hold on.”

“And it was here that we hung up. I actually don’t know who took the picture and I actually don’t know his friend’s name… I guess I should have asked.”

[smolwormadventures]

“While we look for our Christmas decorations, Uncle Potato Chip sent us this!”

“He’s on vacation in the old lands and dropped in on my cousins who live there and help them move into their new home. They recently moved into part of an old boat.”

“Uncle says it’s cold there and is glad they’ve got the new place to keep them warm. He says Draven likes the ‘attic’ part the best. Said he kept himself holed up in there most of the time.”

“Overall, Uncle says he’s enjoying visiting. I told him he’s going to freeze his ass off when he gets back home because it’s just as cold here. And that I’m glad he’s having a good time. He said he’d make it back in time for the holiday.”

[smolwormadventures]

“This is a very captivating book, Uncle. I haven’t finished the epilogue though, would it be okay to leave it here for the time?” -Atticus

“Absolutely. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”:)

[smolwormadventures]

“Ah, Stolen Night, I know this one by heart. Get ready for spoilers.”;)

Foible had found his way back to his empty lair and gazed out the window. It was Christmas. He was alone. He had failed. He sighed and searched the sky for any signs of answers that could help him. Any glimpse of a new scheme or idea he could take and run with.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, and he whipped around, ready to attack. Foible stared in disbelief as he watched the agent before him.

“Hello, Foible,” Crispin greeted, exhaling a held breath.

“What are you doing here, Spillikins? Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” Foible hissed. Crispin chuckled and shrugged.

“It’s a shame anyone has to spend the holidays alone. I wanted to bring you something.” Crispin produced a brown paper package and sat it down in front of Foible. “I know it’s your favorite, enjoy it. Merry Christmas, Foible.”

With that, Crispin left Foible alone again. Foible stood in stunned silence before opening the package. It was indeed his favorite. Turkish delight.

Crispin hoped that Foible enjoyed his gift and wished him the best holiday he could hope for him. Part of him wanting to stay, but the other part of him knew better. He had a family to get back to before Christmas dinner was over.

“End.”

[smolwormadventures]

“Uncle Potato Chip sends an update about his friend that had the surgery awhile back. Apparently, they’re both up to their shenanigans.”

“A day in the life of an office worm. I quote Uncle Potato Chip. He says he does a lot of typing on his slow days. His friend is in the desk next to him.”

“Uncle Potato Chip, who took the photos, said you gotta do it to them.”

“The joke was Uncle Potato Chip’s friend told him he was looking mighty tasty.”

“Uncle Potato Chip says this is where they keep the cryogenically frozen heads of their past bosses.”

“They had a nice potluck at work yesterday. Probably for the holidays. Uncle Potato Chip said the crockpot dish above wasn’t the greatest. Edible, but not the greatest.”

“I don’t remember what Uncle Potato Chip said his friend’s name was. I don’t think he ever mentions his friends by name in texts, but I think he once said over the phone this one’s name is Tango? I can’t remember.”

[smolwormadventures]

Just because it’s been so long and life has been so hectic. This is mostly just to see if anyone would vote!

[smolwormadventures]

🪱 Update

“Hello everyone. Sludge here. As you may have noticed we haven’t been uploading a lot, not that we did before, but less so for a while.

You may have also noticed that we stopped photographing our little worm shelf home.

A few months back were forced to leave our home, our human’s too, and were unable to come back for a time. When we returned everything needed cleaned and wiped down. This is still a daily chore to do. Even though our home has been wiped down, Atticus and I are still a bit skeptical… we’re not really sure if it’s safe to be back…

But for the time being we are safe and staying in a little to-go box. It’s very roomy and spacious so there’s room for Atticus and I.

Don’t worry though. Everyone is okay. We alerted our worm families and let them know what was going on especially Uncle Potato Chip who likes to visit when not traveling.

We also currently have no internet access until we venture from the house and go to places with it currently, so we’ll be gone for a while!:(

All in all we are okay and trying to continue to do so. We appreciate you all and we hope to be back soon!

Stay wormy.”

-Sludge and Co.

[smolwormadventures]

“Hey, everyone. I usually don’t post anything like this, but Uncle Potato Chip’s one close friend has to have facial reconstruction surgery. We don’t know what happened, but all I know is his friend was at work and was in a horrible accident. He’s in surgery now so fingers crossed he comes out okay. May we get some little worm prayers?”

[smolwormadventures]

“With this disguise, I have successfully eluded the kids.”;)

“I’ll give you subpar advice and tell you you’re doing great, sport.”

[smolwormadventures]

“A very exquisite uncle.”:)