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The lunchbox stands innocently in the middle of the table. Innocently, except for the subdued buzzing. The occasional click.
The wooden table is rough and splintery. Máximo wipes a drop of sweat from his brow. The ancient man across from him ever so slowly unscrews the lightbulb.
Above them, there is a crash, and a roar from the crowds.
Below them, there are worms, and they eat the flesh.
He hears a silvery crunching as the ancient man bites into the lightbulb and starts chewing. The earth shakes and the lunchbox tips over and millions of black, shimmering beetles burst forth.