Neighbors

•May 17, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Neighbors

The complete takeover of Earth took 7 years, 244 days, 12 hours, 18 minutes, and 27 seconds. It was a lot slower than you would think it’d be. When our Neighbors from Jupiter arrived (I always found it strange that the language we used was ‘Neighbor’ and not the ‘A’ word), they came waving a white flag, the Earth symbol for peace. It was the same day my little sister Abigail was born, fat and pink and silent. I was 8. Slowly, and with great precision, the Neighbors set up colonies on Earth. They promised to end world hunger, every Ms. Universe’s dream, and they eventually would. They simply said they wanted to help their neighbors.

They were NBC peacock blue with UPS brown spots, and had faces like giant bullfrogs. They had something similar to gills that let them breathe in our atmosphere, and they came with an advanced understanding of our language and world history. They wore no clothing, and didn’t need water to survive. But, they could eat. If you were at a party with a Neighbor, you had to have enough food to feed a small army (at least I imagine it would be comparable, I’ve never met anyone that had to feed a small army). My dad, an amateur scientist, estimated that they took in 20,000 calories a day. I didn’t quite know what that meant, but it seemed an awful big number.

On my 10th birthday, the president sat with the leaders of our planet and a representative from Jupiter, named Ghel-Teth, and they announced that Jupiter would officially have a seat on the United Nations Council. Everyone at my party clapped and cheered, I just went in my room to watch Naruto on my brother’s Xbox 720. I’m told I was always this way, cold and unresponsive. They thought I was depressed, though I never felt sad. Usually I just didn’t feel anything, unless it involved my sister. I felt when I was with her.

By the time I was 13, we had Neighbors teaching in the school system. I had History, English, and Gym with a Neighbor teacher. They were also integrating young Neighbors into the school system, to build cultural empathy and identification. Neighbors had male and female equivalents like we did, but I couldn’t tell them apart to save my life (though if I were ever in a life-threatening predicament regarding the gender of a Neighbor, I’d have a 50/50 shot of guessing correctly). There was one young Neighbor named Kod-Bup who stared at me a lot. Kod-Bup came off as rude and aloof, words usually reserved for when my teachers complained about me to my parents. I found out he was a he and was horrified that I couldn’t get a human male to pick up my pencil when it dropped to the ground, but this Neighbor male wouldn’t stop following me from class to class.

One day after chess club Kod-Bup ran into me, knocking my handmade pieces to the floor. He apologized hurriedly, speaking his language and mine. I clocked him hard in his face. It was the first time I’d touched a Neighbor. I was surprised by how soft his jaw was as it shattered. I got suspended, and reamed by my mother for not being ‘lady-like.’ Kod-Bup was back in school, fully healed, in three days. We started dating the next day. My mother always said love was like getting socked in the face.

When I was 14, the Neighbors started taking humans to their planet in giant saucers like humans imagined in the 50′s. It was part of Ghel-Teth’s Jupiter/Earth integration initiative. Being chosen to leave became akin to winning the lottery. This led to a mass increase of time spent between Neighbors and humans. Whenever there are two groups of people in proximity for an extended period of time, they are bound to take interest in one another. Neighbors and humans were no exception to this rule.

Scientists were surprised to discover that inter-species breeding could occur. They were even more surprised by the fact that it was the human male that became pregnant. Gender and human politics changed overnight. ‘Spore Sex,’ or ‘Sporing’ as it came to be known, occurred when a female or male Neighbor had intercourse with a male human. The Neighbor released a spore during intercourse that went up the human male’s nostril. The spore traveled to the spine, where it latched on. The binding was inoperable. Over the span of 3 Earth months, a new Neighbor would grow and eventually pop off. The delivery was painful but the survival rate for all involved was high. I was just glad I could ‘Spore Fuck’ my boyfriend without getting knocked up. My tiny body, with breasts still growing, was much too young for that.

It wasn’t until my 15th year, when Ghel-Teth had been elected president of the United States, that humans other than myself began to worry. The weapons they shipped in were shiny, bulbous, and enormous. The Neighbors said it was a precautionary measure taken to protect the planet from those who would wish it harm. Kod-Bup seemed to agree with me when I said I thought the Neighbors wished us harm.

I really hate my species, he said one day while we watched television.

I hate mine too, I said.

You’re pretty, he said, and then we made out for a long time.

29 days before the complete takeover of Earth, Guam disappeared. It took a few hours to realize, but when a plane full of honeymooners tried to land and there was no visible ground, the human response was never to suspect our Neighbors. Other countries followed though, small ones at first, then larger ones, but when all of Australia went ghost, suspicions arose and human resistance organizations began to pop up around the globe. The one in my town was led by the junior varsity lacrosse coach, multiple nicotine patches always decorating his forearms, and they had meetings in the kitchen of a local Papa John’s. He looked a little bit like what we thought the ‘A’ word might look like before the invasion. He was calling for ‘full contact retaliation.’ My mother always said lack of understanding would forever be met with physical violence.

If you see a Neighbor, kill it, Coach said.

With what? a woman asked.

Anything, Coach said.

That’s not very specific, a man complained.

Anything can be a weapon if you’re holding it right, Coach said.

What about my boyfriend? I asked.

What about him? Coach spat.

In the final days, I sat around at home because of the mandatory curfew, and played with my little sister a lot. Mom and Dad were mourning over the loss of my brother, who had died during one of Coach’s ‘full contact retaliations.’ I knew things were just about over, so it didn’t seem worth getting upset about. Our president had announced that he was saving our country for last. He informed us that the disappearing countries were being sent to Jupiter. For consumption. 20,000 calories a day must have been a lot to maintain.

On Earth’s last day, I was feeling particularly hopeful, despite my mother’s brutal death at the hands of our neighbor, (our real neighbor, a human next door who lived there his whole life) over a case of water the night before. It was the first time I’d come in contact with my mother’s blood since exiting the womb. Feeling hopeful felt new to me, it was unsettling. I grabbed the keys to my dad’s newish ’18 Jupiter infused Cadillac and decided to go and see Kod-Bup. My sister tagged along.

If I’m gonna die, I wanna die with you, she said.

That’s sweet, I replied, scratching my face even though it didn’t itch.

We were happy to find that Kod-Bup and his parents were still at their home on the east side of town. They welcomed us in, and made us lemonade, which was kind since they never had to drink anything.

Sorry about all of this, Mr. Bup said.

It’s cool, not your fault, I said

We mean no offense, we just needed to eat. Like your planet needed to, Mrs. Bup said.

It’s too bad you all don’t enjoy McDonald’s, I replied.

Come on, let’s go outside, Kod-Bup said.

The sky was numb with pain at the loss of its sister, the land. Their brother, water, was on the rise and the air felt damp. Mosquitos hummed lazily in air. Kod-Bup walked ahead of us, and we followed along to the center of town, where a giant saucer hovered 300 feet above us.

What do you feel when you look at this ship? he asked.

I don’t know, it aches, I replied.

I feel homesick, Abigail spoke up.

We just came from home, stupid, I snapped.

No, I feel homesick for something else, she said.

Quietly, Abigail began to glow. Her young skin zipped and buzzed and turned a nice shade of NBC peacock blue. Little UPS brown spots popped up on her skin, and she giggled. She barely seemed surprised when she took to the air with a whirr and hovered.

We’ve been here for a long time, Kod-Bup said as he took to the air with Abigail, and your sister is one of us, born on the day we landed. It was the last step in the pre-occupation phase of our invasion. Everyone born since the moment we arrived has been one of us. We’re not a bad species; we just wanted our home to become great again. When something is small and dying, like your planet was, doesn’t it make sense to salvage what you can from it and move on? Our leader used the word “consumption” when talking about what we’re doing, but I like to look at it as “absorption.” With this, we get to save lives and start them anew.

Somewhere, the loud screech of crust tearing from mantle echoed off the hull of the saucer hovering above. I covered my ears to keep from crying.

What about me? I asked. Why do I have to die, and you two get to live?

You can’t tell? he asked.

Tell what? I replied.

You’re one of us too. You were our prototype, placed here years before anyone else, he smiled. We had to make sure the process would work didn’t we? With us, with your true family, you’ll be able to feel like you’ve never felt before.

I was shocked that I wasn’t as shocked as I should have been. Sure enough, I began to glow, and whiz, and zip. My face went soft, and I felt the need to ribbit. Acceptance and understanding can come at the most frightening of speeds. There was a moment when my feet turned cold, but then Kod-Bup and Abigail each took one of my hands and my whole body felt warm. The sky opened up and began to devour the planet. We soared through the atmosphere of the planet I grew up on, laughing and crying, on our way to a new planet. On our way back home.

Surfing

•August 17, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Wendy couldn’t stop laughing.

 

They had just been kicked out of the water park because she had found a Styrofoam surfboard in a building marked “Employees Only” and taken it into the giant wave pool. The large LCD screen that counted down the seconds until the next round of waves had gotten to 0 as Wendy cried, “Surfs up, motherfuckers!” She had never surfed before but somehow managed to stand on the board for a few seconds before it caved in and she wiped out. Lifeguards had taken her by the arms and thrown her out of the park. Ink and Dennis had followed after them, shouting out congratulations on her surfing skills.

 

Now outside the water park and heading towards the place where they had locked up their bikes and boards, Dennis said, “Killer waves, brah.” They all laughed some more and Ink unlocked his and Wendy’s boards from Dennis’ bike.

 

“Where do we wanna go now?” asked Ink, his skin glowing from the sun.

 

“Let’s go hang out by the old Happynap place, maybe break a window or two,” replied Dennis his eyes humungous behind his glasses, excitement on his face for the first time in months.

 

Wendy couldn’t say no, even though she hated the old place, she’d go hang for a bit just to make Dennis happy. “Fine,” she said placing the wheels of her board on the hot asphalt, “but you gotta keep up with us, kid.”

 

“I’m on a bike,” said Dennis, slicking back his hair, “it’s you who’s going to have to keep up.

 

The three of them rode off to the other side of town, and they were happy.

We Could Go To The Water Park

•August 16, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Wendy, Dennis, and Ink had a lot of fun at the water park. It was hot that day, hotter than the one before it (but not as hot as the one that would come after it) and the chilled water felt good on their skin. Wendy made sure Dennis put extra sunscreen on and he didn’t protest. After all, the last thing a shut in wanted was sunburn that would bring people into his room asking him how it felt. The park wasn’t that big, it had a couple of good slides, a better than average lazy river, but what it did have was an excellent wave pool. Wendy and Ink hit the slides first. The wooden staircases that led to the top of the slides seemed to be expanding from the heat of the rough sun. Wendy and Ink raced down their slides as Dennis stood in the shade at the bottom to see who would come out first.

 

“Ink wins!” Dennis cried.

 

Wendy pouted her lips and made Ink race again and again and again. He won each time. “It’s because you’re fat,” she said pink in the face not from the sun but from embarrassment.

 

“Let’s go cool off in the lazy river, you sore loser.” Ink slung his arm around Dennis’ neck playfully pulling him toward the lazy river. Wendy and Dennis grabbed inner tubes but Ink just jumped in and started swimming around, trying to flip people.

 

Wendy was glad for the peaceful moment. The park wasn’t crowded so the lazy river wasn’t its usual “bumping into every person on the planet” self. She was thrilled that Dennis was out of the house and having some fun. Sometimes, she felt too grown up with the way she cared about her little brother. She was going to miss him a lot when she went off to school. Wendy lay there in her tube letting the quiet rush of the chlorinated water pass by her, hypnotizing her into a dull sleep…

 

…Just as she started to really drift off she felt a hand on her butt from under the water. Panic goose-bumped her skin and sent a chill down her spine. Suddenly, she wasn’t in the tube anymore, she was being pushed into the air by the hand. She hung, suspended in space for a moment before crashing back down into the water. A rush of sound surrounded her as her head went under the water. She came up gasping and looking around. Laughter was ringing behind her and she turned to see Ink and Dennis high-fiving. Ink had gone all the way around the lazy river and flipped her over.

 

She splashed some water at them, “Jerks.” Then she couldn’t help but start laughing and she went over to Ink and playfully tried to drown him. The lifeguards surrounding the lazy river were blowing their whistles but the three kids played on.

Dennis

•August 4, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Wendy knocked on her brother’s door twice before letting herself in. He was asleep, sprawled out on his computer desk. He had some impressive hardware, impressive even to someone who knew nothing about computers like her, coming out of the machine that never stopped running.

 

“Dennis,” she said softly, “I brought some food up for you.”

 

He began to groggily sit up, rubbing the crusty sleep from out under his eyes. “What’s for dinner?” he asked. She plopped down the plate of steak and potatoes, letting the cooling food on the chipped china plate speak for itself. “Crap,” he mustered. He began to stretch the rust from his bones, and Wendy was again reminded of just how tall he was. Long feet, long legs, long torso, long arms, long neck, long nose… he looked lankier than Shaggy from the Scooby-Doo cartoons they would watch when they were little. Even though he was three years younger than she was, Dennis had been taller than her for six.

 

“It’s not so bad,” she said, “if you eat it fast, it almost tastes like something.”

 

He placed his thick-framed glasses on his face and said, “Yeah, something.”

 

Wendy made her way to the bedroom door, making to leave for her room when Dennis called out, “thanks sis!”

 

“No problem, big guy. Thinking about going to the water park tomorrow with Ink. Do you want in?”

 

Dennis paused, Wendy didn’t know this but he hadn’t left the house in a month and a half or his room in two weeks. He hummed in contemplation.

 

“I’ll buy your ticket.”

 

A small smile cracked his cold, pale face. “You’ve got a deal,” he said.

 

Wendy smiled and made her way to her bedroom. She hoped Dennis wouldn’t change his mind, but she would understand if he did. It had all hit him the hardest, and he spent more time in the virtual world of his computer than he did in the real one. Some fun in the sun would be good for him. Wendy kicked on the antique record player, plugged in her headphones and grabbed the book she had been reading off the shelf. Sleep came soon after.

Steak

•August 3, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Wendy grabbed her dinner and ate it out on the patio. It was still hotter than holy hell, even with the sun out of the sky, but eating dinner at the table made her sad. It reminded her of her mother, and Wendy didn’t like being reminded of her mother. Lately, dinner consisted of trying to hear Jeopardy answers over her father’s occasional sobs. He was having trouble adjusting too; mother had always done all the cooking. Wendy’s little brother rarely ever left his room anymore. So rather than being enclosed in a room stiff with her mother’s ghost, Wendy liked eating outside. She sat on the patio furniture that had fallen victim to the sun’s fading rays much the same way the old Happynap house had and ate her steak and instant mashed potatoes in silence. The meat was tough, but better tasting than usual. She did her best to make the glass bottle of Pepsi she was drinking last for the duration of the steak.

 

Even though the lack of sun brought some relief from the heat, the silvery moon brought out the mosquitos that were apparently much hungrier than Wendy. She wondered if she tasted better than the steak did, and then wondered if mosquitos could even taste at all.

 

A future college student should know if mosquitos can taste, she thought to herself.

 

She brushed the thought aside as she addressed the huge scrape she had procured on her left knee during the last race with Ink. Ink was a jerk, but he was the closest thing she had to a best friend. After all the bad stuff had happened in school this past year, the bad stuff she didn’t even like talking about, Ink was the only person who really stayed friends with her. He always had her back, but not in some kind of romantic way which she appreciated. She didn’t want that with him, he was too big of a loser. She did have one other good friend, who lived a few towns over, named Lucy, but she had been a counselor at a sleep away camp all summer. Lucy was great, she did all the “girlie” stuff that Wendy couldn’t do, and she did it without being a total bitch.

 

Wendy finished the last of her well-done steak and decided she was going to bring some up to her little brother and then give Lucy a call. Maybe she was back from sleep away camp. Wendy thought that hearing Lucy’s voice would make her really happy. And when she got to her room, she was pleased to find out that it did.

Happy

•August 2, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Wendy and Ink had enough time to race around the neighborhood twice before having to go home for dinner. The race almost provided enough of a cool breeze to make the temperature bearable. As Wendy kicked and pushed the skateboard faster and faster the wind cut along her square jaw, blowing her mahogany colored hair back in a way that made it look as if it was dancing strangely. The sweat on her skin, bronzed from long days in the summer sun (her last before going off to college), shone brilliantly in the setting red and orange of the sun. She leaned perfectly into every turn; as if she had done this a thousand times before, and she would tell you that she had. Ink was picking up speed and he passed her at the last turn of their last race and turned his head back long enough to laugh and flip her off.

Maybe grand romantic gestures are dead after all, she thought.

She knew the race had been lost but she finished anyway, and as she kicked up her board into her left hand, she slapped Ink five with her write. She fought to keep her breath from seeming too out of control, she didn’t want Ink to know how hard she had tried to win the race, but as she looked at him she realized he was too preoccupied with something to notice her breathing.

“What?” she asked.

“I just hate this house, it always gives me the creeps,” he replied, his voice like ice.

“You’ve been afraid of this house since you were seven, if it hasn’t hurt you in the past eleven years, what makes you think it’s going to hurt you now?”

“I’m not an idiot, Wendy, houses don’t hurt you,” he shot at her, “but that doesn’t make the place any less creepy.”

The house in question was at the end of their neighborhood. It was a pale, rundown yellow, the kind of yellow that happens to school buses that have paint jobs long past their prime. The shutters hung haphazardly from their hinges and the roof looked uneven. The last family that lived in the house, the Happynaps, packed up and left in the middle of the night five years ago. Nobody has lived there since. The family name once presented itself in full above the front door, but all that was left now was Happy. Wendy thought that the word “Happy” did in fact add a kind of chill to the house that made her uncomfortable.

 

“Come on,” Wendy said as she hit Ink on the shoulder, “one more race home. Let me get another shot at beating you”

The trance of the yellow, Happy house released its hold on Ink and he plopped his skateboard back down on the ground. “No way are you going to beat me.”

But Wendy had already begun to push her board with her left foot, heading towards home like a demon chasing after a nun’s asshole. If they had looked back, they would have seen a shadow at one of the windows on the second floor, a shadow that was staring straight at them.

Sixteen, Seventeen

•August 1, 2011 • Leave a Comment

“Grand romantic gestures are dead, Wendy.”

Wendy furrowed her brow and frowned, as she tended to do when thinking about what she referred to as big things.

She finally mustered, “Why?”

“Because pretty sixteen year old girls killed the spirit of boys dumb enough to try them,” he responded.

This made Wendy sad, and as she sat on her skateboard, rolling back and forth contemplatively, a bead of sweat fell from her furrowing brow, evaporating the moment it made contact with the hot asphalt.

“I never killed any boy’s spirit,” she said, wiping her face.

He smiled, “That’s because you weren’t pretty when you were sixteen.”

“Hey!” she said, hitting him in the arm disapprovingly.

“You didn’t get pretty until you were seventeen,” he responded.

Wendy began to sweat even more, but she didn’t immediately give him credit for this, as the ground was literally baking beneath her Vans.

He got up from out of the grass, grabbed his board, and made his way to where Wendy was in the middle of the hot cul-de-sac, “Race you around the neighborhood,” he said.

“Fine,” she said, “but I don’t think grand romantic gestures are dead.”

“We’ll see.”

 
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