Subject: The worm doesn't make me eat dead rats
"The worm doesn't make me eat dead rats. I was doing that before the worm," he purred at me like one of the diseased cats that would follow him around whenever he had a dead rat in his pocket that he was saving for later. He really liked eating them. He coughed and it sounded like a lawnmower hitting a sprinkler head. His leathery skin crackled in the evening sun. He had to leave tonight - he was speaking at a conference for people who think medicine turns you gay. Sometimes when he was away I would rub an old catcher's mitt up and down my legs and pretend he was giving me a massage."
——Excerpt from I Don't Know Why He Sounds Like That: My Disgusting Affair with RFK Jr. by Olivia Nuzzi