Texas Bluebonnet, Kenneth Pobo

Studio executives at Goosetwice Films were sure that The Night of the Texas Bluebonnet would be a “blockbuster” and it did make money. Lots of it. They threw a big party where young women in sea otter costumes placed hundred dollar bills under sushi.

Booze wrote the whole thing off as a tax deduction.

The worm, heroic to the pebble people, dies at the end. Children had not expected this and left the theaters crying. The worm had been courageous and kind—through him, the Flower of Vastness became able to send down deep roots. This didn’t matter to the sun, who shone so hard that the worm died. The last fifteen minutes kept viewers focused on the decay. Director Carbunkle, famous for his series of Aunt Gwen Takes A Long Lunch films, wanted realism.

Parents felt gypped. It was supposed to be “family entertainment” and wasn’t even set in Texas. Some demanded their money back but cars needed fixing, diapers needed changing, and PTA’s were turning into roving gangs, so it blew over quickly.

Except for the dreams. Thousands of kids dreamed of their skin curling up, their brains leaking out of their ears. One kid threw herself through her bedroom window.

Carbunkle’s next film, The Day of the Texas Bluebonnet, made even more money. The worm returned. He ate Pensacola. Cheers thundered through the metroplex. No one reported any bad dreams. When school opened, guns took attendance and hallways patrolled themselves.