VALIUM (you asked for it)

The purple fluorescent bulb specked midnight sky rotting from light pollution controls the setting of Dearly Mine Elementary School for the Children of CNN H1-N1 Entertained Parents in an Advanced State of Gross Decline. Home of the noble Dolphins.

         These are two people on a roof. This roof in fact. Let’s get on thing straight, they reject the Crimethinc. mentality. By that I mean they don’t find comfort in reclusing their state of being into the social hallucination that one day (in their lifetime), the streets will be filled with revolutionaries hiding behind black bandannas with the heads of politicians on pikes while children dance inside department stores breaking merchandise.

         This roof climbing business, it’s illegal of course. Why illegal? All they are participating in is conversation in an at-ease position. Illegal because some human scum barely equipped with a brainstem break into institutions of tomorrows leaders to steal textbooks, library books, utensils, tables, chairs, food, etcetera. Anything they can boost. Once, friends of these individuals broke into a junior high school. They found their way to the biology room and stole a few jars of formaldehyde preserved organisms. Soaking cigarettes and joints in the liquid granting them insight to geometric shapes and reducing the ten percent of their brains to FIVE. They just as others, sell their booty for escapism:

Drugs

Sex

Green rectangular pieces of paper with ex-rulers portrait stamped on them

Cunts

Dicks

Whatever their blood pumping tough muscle desperately yearns to get them to tomorrow. So, in turn the law has made trespassing against the grain. Punishable by the ever intimidating and humiliating (their hopes) cock of major artery proportions.

         But two people give no attention to these threats. Even as they sit against a rotten apple skin rusted metal partition on the gymnasium roof, an officer of the Established Order of Socially Acceptable Behavior sits in his black and white vulture auto watching Date Movie on his iPhone, enjoying every minute of that trash. All the while shoveling greasy slop that passes for nutrients into his face hole, taking post in the school parking lot. Everyone agrees it’s to scare off the drug deals that take place in the area nightly.

         Tonight, these two have no mind altering substances. Unless you take count of the natural chemicals coursing through each of their blue jungle gym tunnel veins. Natural substance and compounds flooring their way into each brain as they mentally and physically communicate.

         Episodically as it may sound, these two plus a third have been performing these exact same motions every night for the last year. They park in the same cul-de-sac in the wealthiest neighborhood in their city. They walk down a small concrete alley (usually wet from automatic sprinklers) in between two houses large enough to end the homeless epidemic. These constructs of housing are built on the blood and sweat of cheap laborers who stashed all their empty cans of Natural Light in the master bathroom exterior wall just before they sealed it up.

         There are only three ways I can predict that those aluminum cans will ever see the light of day. I present these ideas in order of likelihood.

1. They remodel the bathroom.

2. The pseudo-joy filled married being catches their opposite reaming the babysitter or bucking hips with the pool boy in the shower. Having pre-existing knowledge of their once lovers infidelity, they equip themselves with a mallet or a rubber handled workers ax, not unlike the one the anti-Crimethincers stole while the school roof was re-tarred. The adrenaline drunk machine of whatever psychiatric drug they’re prescribed to this week takes their two-handed weapon of choice and swing it at the literal fuckers mid-coitus. Missing (due to the valium), he or she creates a cloud of powdered dry-wall so thick everyone looks like a clown with only it’s base make-up. Once the dust settles and the love-cheating confused soul is removed from whoever’s conscience and residence, the heart broken so-and-so just might look in the black stain of non-existent wall and see the aluminum cans of Busch and Keystone.

         Lastly, and most unlikely:

3. A tornado of record breaking mass could drop on this neighborhood of concentrated greed. Destroying every material possession they’ve worked their entire live to finally own. Then again, they probably have insurance.

         The day number three happens, I believe beyond a shadow of doubt someone will sift through the ruins , collecting all of these cans and make a killing at the recycling center.

         It doesn’t really matter what gender these roof climbers have been assigned. What matters is they’re people just trying to answer unanswerable questions.

Why am I here?

Why are we here?

What does this mean?

What has happened here?

Just like every person on the planet- This ruined home. I’ve found most humans won’t admit to these curiosities. Hunter Thompson once said (verbatim), you have to start with being honest with yourself. This mind you isn’t an exact quote. As much as I’d like to, I don’t keep a collection of useful quotes. Since post-adolescents I collect nothing. Not even lessons learned from past mistakes. I’ll never trust a person that says they aren’t baffled by the existence of humanunkind.

         After they reached the school by cutting through backyards complete with charcoal or propane grills so expensive Existential Crisis could enter community college instead of climbing the same roof every night, they wall-walk up a rain tarnished pole.

         The third member missing on their usually routing outing of comradery is the gun mad Inferior Complex.

         Existential’s buttocks are going numb from the tiny grains of rock and sand that make up the gym roof. A book curls to the shape of his bony ass in his back pocket. The only other Earthling present is Mind Bender.

         This is the only series of moments EC and MB have ever been without the Inferior Complex. In complete and total sense of the word “without”.

A ghost.

         All thre carbon based life forms would climb the metal pole to the top of the gym with a backpack containing copious amounts of either beer, weed or both. Now there are no substances and one member is MIA. The once crucial bridge Existential Crisis crossed daily to see with a third eye of physical vision Mind Bender has been burned in a violent celebratory act of mental healing and disregard. Only EC doesn’t know this.

         People have been forced into humiliation over the entire pulse of human history. Mind Bender is no stranger to such things as being led around on a leash mimicking a dog with an over jacked sexual appetite by perverted dope pushers processing a fix for themselves.

         That part of that life is over now.

         EC is more than aware of this past. It’s a main line of hatred fuel cut with 10-w40 sorrow injected straight into the heartcore. Even more so of an input for such emotions is Mind Benders current oppressor: Inferior Complex.

         Existential has bore witness to Inferior’s most demonic sessions. One particular nightmare of a memory: Mind Bender and IC were setting up a sixteen-bit cartridge gaming system. Of course, Inferior slouched lazily on the couch as his mouth demanded Mind Bender to insert the power-plug into a three holed outlet below an oak carved table. Upon insertion, Mind Bender’s thin frame shook in an electrical outrage usually reserved for death-row inmates due to the shady wiring in their flat.

         Instead of asking if MB was physically well, Inferior Complex grabbed the throat of the freshly jolted body, squeezing with two gorilla hands. One hand released, glides fluidly to the dead animal stitched gun holster strapped securely to his waist and introduced the butt end of a .308 to the jaw of Mind Bender with the Extensions of a locomotive twisting a uni-body frame car full of a random family.

         Mind Bender stares at the hardly tolerable bumpy roof, then at EC with blue eyes that swirl under the reflection of our Moon.

         Two types of people chase after the category of human Mind Bender falls under. One wants to keep those hearts in the same routine: Faux intimacy in exchange fro a sexually alive, financially stable, morally conscience and (their favorite) easily pushed over and punishable partner. The other type are those who witness these events. Thoughtful love drones think they can sweep the beaten puppy angel out of whatever terrible trauma they are experiencing at the moment.

         Existential Crisis is similar to these incubi. Although there is one division to that spirit and many others: The lack of care as to who MB ends up with. As long as they nurture mind and body.

         The vibrating vocal cords of mouth-speak between EC and MB consists of syntax in which no one would give a Stimpy sucking a rats ass. Then existential says, “I might move to Norman.” Almost immediately afterwords, “actually, Lawrence. The rents cheap, good weed and cops don’t heat your collar just for walking around late at night.”

         A series of spectacular events are beginning to unravel.

         Mind Bender removes a hand knit blue and green scarf from her neck the way a careful doctor handles a burn victim. “I killed him.”

         EC looks in the direction of noise from another human. Close enough to touch. Deep teeth marks near identical to a sadistic dentist creating an impression of white bone shards cutting through the gums of a PCP rabid werewolf with that clay that makes me vomit breakfast or lunch just from the smell will eventually become wicked scars on her neck.

         “He grabbed me and I took the gun from him… You know.”

         Existential knows. Visions of a blood sprayed microwave from a home defense round Inferior likes so much gut wound fills the minds eye. Then a second shot- right into IC’s selfish computer. Peppering the nuclear power cooked White Castle Burger trash with brains and red falling from the wall above.

         These two people trespassing on a public school gymnasium roof make not a sound for some time. Fire safe paper tubes filled with their precious chemical treated tobacco aflame pass back and forth between them until MB says, “Can I go to Lawrence with you?”

          A curious thing: MB shed not a tear for Inferior Complex. Rightfully so but, most people would cry because they ended a speaking life of the same language. Mind Bender let a salty bulb fall only after Ex gave a bilabial push to the only possible soft cheek.

         “This is too weird,” EC says.

         “What do you mean?”

         Existential leans close enough to MB to clean a blue eye with the strong tongue muscle, and removes a small tattered book from his back pocket.

         “I’ve been reading this book. It just reminds me of us.”

         They both are suddenly broad sided by a light comparable to Earth’s yellow sun, rendering their in between solid and liquid eyeballs useless until adjustments are made innately. The two spirits witness the light multiply by three. Noise of loud mechanical engines fill the atmosphere, but nothing moves.

And then it’s gone-

Flies away.

That’s what MB says.

         “It flew away!”

         These people call such thing UFO’s. Television specials take up years of human life on digital video about the subject.

Aliens

Radiation burns

Crop circles

Anal probing

Inside-out dismembered cattle.          

         Existential Crisis’ mouth moves and sounds come out. “Now you have really got to read this book.”

         This entire night has been full of UFO’s if you ask me- and you have to.

Unique.

Fortunate.

Occurrence.