After waking up trapped in the body of Franz Kafka, local beetle and new Baltimore resident Beefus has made it his mission to replace the celebrated author. In a tragic twist of fate, it seems as though Kafka, famous for short story “the Metamorphosis” (in which a trite businessman wakes up as a critter) is now inhabited by Beegus, one of Baltimore’s finest young minds. How Kafkaesque!
The way his story goes, Begurk awoke in Kafka’s body, along with several stacks of paperwork only fillable with red ink. Almost immediately, the urge to write set in. After several pages worth of drivel, philosophical musing, and uninspiring contributions to the literary canon, Beefclap muttered, “I am so Kafkaesque,” went down on a bowl of cherries, and moved to Baltimore, following the scent of success (rotting garbage).
Kafka, best known for “The Trial” and “The Castle”, is unlikely to be releasing any new work soon, given Borkum’s occupation of his decaying corpse. Blintam is the next best thing, at least for now, and certainly Baltimore’s burgeoning literate scene. Residing near the Atlantic, Bwark hopes to jumpstart his writing career and make friends while trying.
Since this isn’t something you see every day, I took the opportunity to interview the few remaining organisms living in the former author’s body since Kafka died in ‘26. Lactobacillus, an aspiring stevedore and former union boss known as Big L, said it was an exciting switch to beetle-owned management. Big L loves Baltimore’s wharfs, crabs, and bridges. Its hardscrabble origin story. The suburbs where the white kids play lacrosse. The airport that people get rerouted to from DC’s Reagan. “Credit where credit is due, this guy knows tripe way better than ol’ Franzo ever did, and that guy wrote some real tripe!”
Even the scabs on Brapppp’s rotting flesh are excited. Spokesman for the Open Wound Alliance, Mike Johnson, had much to say. “K[afka] was good, but this half-baked stab at absurdism and irony is gonna keep the lights on this time. Philosophical drudgery don’t pay like it did in pre-war Europe, but in modern America, a bug can do anything.” The Austro-Hungarian Empire ain’t got nothin’ on B[eetle]-more.”
Bleepum is now living the domestic life. His busy work schedule (scurrying around) is punctuated by gobbling trash, including half-watched episodes of “The Wire.” He is increasingly a hero of Baltimore’s literary scene, having watched episodes of “The Wire” and leaving reviews on IMDb.
His newest review will actually be a novel. It is an upcoming stunner entitled “The Dial,” about a dial a man has to turn every day. Except that the dial is actually a clock, that can be wound only twice a day! It sounds Kafkaesque. Not quite Kafka, but damningly so. Here, and then it isn’t. There, and then it’s over here. A contemplation of existentialism through the literary lens of a beetle stuck in the mind of Franz Kafka, and also his body.