Dwellers

Diesel is pacing outside the door while we watch through a peephole; he looks extremely upset which we understand. Neighbors sit with him on a classic bench; they attempt to calm him down. Zoom gently edges open the door to listen; I am standing with arms folded across my chest gazing out the window daydreaming about a wolf puppy. You Know Who pops open a tube of cashews diagramming our situation with a protractor on pieces of cardboard paper, mouthing silent words. I lean over his shoulder before Zoomy slipped into the hallway; must of been an accident, I think to myself.

Concoction of brain fluids from valves of chemical thought process can be implanted through the neck artery and extracted from the temples through cranium cracks. Each is a corresponding color; yellow (waste), brown (excrement), army green (anger/adrenal disposition), marine beige (defense/pituitary flush), air force blue (addiction), and blood red (clarity/balance/equilibrium mechanisms). These will contribute to multiplicity if divided from quotient DNA however the equation is difficult to understand. Both my sisters are presently not afflicted; I am positive they will be forced with each in a specific order made of indirect experiences extracted from the numbers unknown to them. The people sprung forth from their compound must be derivatives of the ego which flows each of these described fluids. Only method I can determine to stop the chaotic confusion is letting go; this is metaphysical theory yet absolutely necessary for us to be individuals without attachment. This will detach all morphed personalities; I am certain there is no other way.

"It's about fucking bats!"

"Diesel fucking shit man! You scared the fucking holy spirits out of me!"

"We didn't need them anyways..."

"Are you mad at us?"

"What do you think?"

"I would be if I was you."

"Yeah well...."

"So you're mad right?"

"I want you to come out here and look at your buddy."

"Where did he go anyways?"

You Know is engrossed with analytical contemplation; he appears to be a dream. Black tear drop fills with clear water wobbling on tattoo ink; a tracer pools over an extended thumb. He is drawing a map of how nightmares are configured; scratching across a few portions his frustration dismays me. Diesel leads with his firm hand upon my shoulder into the hallway.

"Zoomy why are you dressed like that?"

"He said I'm a cow."

"A cowboy! Not a cow! Cowboy!"

Through the walls our neighbors are laughing without hesitation or abrupt stops; this vision is frightfully serious, I cannot. Diesel parades my dear comrade through the building for every person to attend his premier Southwestern fashion show; Zoomy catwalks with joyful precision. You Know Who is interested in nocturnal creatures; he chuckles underneath a dark chocolate pentagon ridden spider while twirling a pencil between three digits of his other hand.

"What about the bats were you saying Die Die...."

"Has to do with sonar; they use it to build things."

Zoomy is now skater thrift man in long sleeved white t-shirt and black pin stripe gray ankle shorts; his hemp shoes hang from a coat hangar over an empty space we gaze for an unknown period while both men continue their conversation.

"They can build stuff with sonar....?"

"An image solid to shape bounces off the waves...."

"Like Pirate Radio; the frequencies, shit invades open bands for free play. Late in the night people are listening."

"Yeah....I figured out bat sonar is sourced from pure sound."

"Bats produce the ride for all frequencies..."

"Yeah....fuck yeah that is exactly what I was trying to say...."

"If they fuck with the frequencies then they will be fucking with us."

"With everyone...."

"Especially us...."

"What do you mean?"

"They got to explain it to you; they know what I'm saying."

We lay flat on blank wood staring at the ceiling; Zoomy motions me to roll over while he uses my elbowed arm for erecting a standing position. I follow with his hand reaching out to mine. Reminiscing another state of mind we come together for madness; our apartment is filled with our family, Uncles included.

"That's how we know each other."

"We know one another from sound and shape."

They solemnly understand this is logical without an outlined composition.

"That is also how we may lose each other unless we are precise."

"They are coming after us aren't they?"

Diesel and You Know concentrate on extremity; there are no words for shock.

"Yeah...."

Pookah cries on the shoulder of a young man who is remarkable likeness to a man named Hector; he is her strength while we listen to our concerns.

"We got to go to that place with the ugly cows huh?"

"God damn it I knew there was something fucked up about those hydrant boys."

"Should of used the damn hose instead...."

"Still wouldn't of cleaned them out."

"How come they look the same?"

"We all look the same!"

"Yeah but they aren't us...."

"Who the hell knows what the fuck they are!"

"What the fuck do they want?"

"Yeah what the fuck did we ever do to them?"

"I know they got everything to do with this shit!"

"No doubt!"

"So you saying we are going to be bats?"

Diesel replies with a silver jointed armored finger displaying a fanged skull in between bat wings skimping the sharpened point across a bow tied neck while You Know Who lifts a plaid collar closer to a centered light bulb fixture to see what we are dealing with.

"There won't be anything left of us unless they can bring us back."

"We came here to tell you all something!"

"It's very important...."

"Yeah well spit it out!"

"You sons of bitches...."

"God damn whoever cunt them out must be some bloody wankers!"

"Jerk off babies!"

"Tissue discards!"

"Dribble drones!"

"Anal spunk species!"

"Sewer conception!"

Zoomy places his forehead against the middle of my upper torso; his giggles aquatically echo inside our atmosphere as I join him with whale bubbles. The room is twenty thousand leagues under the sea exhibiting variety of ocean sounds.

"Chester what did you come to say..."

"Thaddeus do tell..."

"You need to choose."

"The choice is yours."

"For what?"

"What the fuck you guys going on about now?"

We all observe dullness discarding two men as Who and Diesel guard from a distance.

"You can either go along with what we want or you will end up like us."

"Aw fuck..."

"Anything but that!"

"Bloody big horny fucking ugly god damn cows! Fuck!"

"We want to know what's wrong with you guys but we don't want to get that deep into it!"

"Fucking shit!"

"That's some fucking shit for fucking real!"

"Shorty!"

"Shy Caller!"

We are present; he is cherry blossom blush and I am cupid's honeysuckle.

"I don't think they are what they appear...."

"Yeah it's like they are not here...."

Chess nor Thad provide an explanation for how we feel; they walk out of the building unscathed. Everyone is silent, I pace an invisible square, Zoom sits in stillness on the floor, Who is smacking cut gemstone structured knuckles into a cupped palm; Diesel is an epiphany full of bright and dark expressions waiting for a moment to release his demeanor into a simple quoted phrase.

"I always wanted to be a bat."