A Guy Like Me

Walking down the street in a neighborhood like this could be dangerous for a guy like me.  All the people here live in fancy houses, unlike me; I don't have a home, at least, not much of one.  I guess I crash in the bushes behind the gas station a few blocks down, but I wouldn't call it home.  Anyway, the last time someone from this neighborhood saw me, she called the authorities on me.  Wouldn't want to sully the image the neighborhood with someone with actual problems.  But I got to eat, so I'm here to look through their garbage.  It's amazing what well-to-do people throw away.

I cautiously cross the street, trying not to spend too much time under the streetlight.  I don't come out during the day, not unless I have to.  Like I said, these people get pretty skittish if they see me.  As if I would attack them for no reason; just walk up to them, go "Rawr," and take a swing at them.  I don't want any trouble, man.  I'm just hungry.

I make it to my first stop of the night.  This house doesn't usually have the best pickings, but it is the closest to the street, so it makes sense to take a look-see.  Plus, they have plastic trash cans that don’t make a lot of noise, which is helpful for a guy like me.  I look inside the cans, but only see a bunch of cardboard.  They look to be in decent shape and would probably be great for making a "Please Help" sign, if I knew how to write.  Best to move on.

The next house I skip because they have a dog.  I don't want to announce to the whole block that I'm here and then have to run "home" with an empty belly.

House number three is usually one of the places I can rely on.  They have a cat that's pretty finicky and won't touch his food that they leave out for him.  Hey, cats aren't so different and eating fresh cat food is far from the worst thing that I've made dinner out of.  A guy like me could certainly do worse.  I get a couple of bites down when the dang cat shows up!  Now, I'm not worried about some silly cat, but I don't want it making a racket, so I grab one last bite and high-tail it out of there.  The cat starts moaning, probably because I was eating his food that he didn't even want until I got there.  Jerk.

Fourth house of the night.  Come on, give me something good!  The trash cans here are metal, but they left them on dirt, which is quieter than pavement, so I should be fine.  I get the lid off and start looking.  I don't like having to tear through the bags inside, but if there isn't any loose food outside them, I have to go deeper.  So I bite through the topmost bag and start digging.  Not bad!  Some spaghetti with meat sauce, some half-finished bottles of baby food, and some dry crackers!  I can probably fill up here!  Yeah, there's a couple of dirty diapers in here too, but their sealed up, so it should be fine.  Look, I'm already eating garbage, so it's not as if a guy like me can be too proud to not eat near a diaper.

I hurriedly eat as much as I can, worried that I'll be caught again.  I'm practically bursting when the outdoor light comes one.  Drat!  I grab an unfinished granola bar in my mouth and make a run for it.  I'm at the fence when I hear the homeowner come outside.  I make it to the top of the fence and look back.  We lock eyes for a moment, then I'm over the wall.  I'm clear when I hear the words leave his mouth: “Honey, it's that raccoon again.  I'm telling you, we really should get a dog.”

I make it back to the bushes behind the gas station just as the sun is coming up, tired but full.  This life may not be glamorous, but I usually get enough to eat.  As far as I'm concerned, that’s the best that a guy like me could ask for.

Full Moon

Dave rubbed his eyes as he leaned back in his office chair.  These long office hours were taking their toll on him.  He looked at the time readout on his laptop: 7:39 PM.  He really had to get out of here.  Lunch was a long time ago and by now he was running on nothing but Diet Coke and breath mints.  He scrolled through the spreadsheet he was looking at to see if he could call it a day.  After a few minutes, he decided that he could probably finish everything by his deadline on Friday.  His mind made up, Dave packed up and wearily walked to the elevator.

I can hardly think straight, Dave thought as he pushed the elevator button and waited for it to come up to his floor.  Maybe I should get take out or drive-thru or something.  I shouldn’t have stayed so late.

The elevator doors opened with a friendly ding.  Dave stepped heavily into the empty elevator.  As he leaned against the mirrored wall, he looked back at his own tired face when his eyes suddenly opened wide.  What’s the date?! he thought as he fumbled in his pants’ pocket for his phone.  As it lit up, he quickly slid over to the calendar.  It was May 14^th.  How could he have forgotten the date?!  His life had been ruled by the calendar for the last several years.  He looked at the clock on his phone: 7:55 PM.  There might still be time.  If traffic wasn’t an issue, he could make it home in time and prevent innocent people from getting hurt.

He futilely pushed the lobby button on the elevator again.  In stark contrast from how he moved mere moments ago, Dave was now having trouble stay still.  By the time the elevator finally reached the lobby, he was hopping anxiously.  When the doors opened, Dave bolted for the parking garage.

I can still make it, he kept repeating to himself as he climbed into the driver’s seat of his car.  I can still make it.  I can still make it.  Any passerby would have thought that Dave was a madman the way he barreled around corners to the exit, but, of course, there was no one left in the building at this hour.

As he made it on to the street, Dave glanced at his car's clock: 8:03 PM.  He could feel it starting inside him, changing him.  The hunger was upon him.  Not now, he thought as he drove as fast as he dared down the street.  It’s not supposed to start until I’m safe at home!

As he drove, his sense of smell started to enhance.  He was aware of every hair on his body as they stood up in attention.  He craved blood and violent exchanges and unless he got home in time he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold back the beast that he would be.

Dave tried to keep himself calm, repeating aloud a mantra that had helped a little in the past: “You are in control.  You are in control.”  Even as he said it, he wondered how true it would be this time.  The last time he hadn’t made it home, how many people had been hurt?  Half a dozen?  More?  He didn’t even know.  Once he turned into the beast, everything was a blur. He would wake up in a stupor and stumble home, not sure of what had really happened the night before.  If he could just get home in time, no one else had to get hurt, just him.

Dave was on his home street now with only a few buildings to go before he was at his apartment.  He looked at his watch: 8:11 PM, one minute left!  He parked quickly and ran towards the door.  One of his neighbors was getting her mail and said hello, but Dave was too far gone to notice or care.  He fumbled for his key as the pain of the transformation started.  “I’m too close,” Dave said.  “No.  No-ooooo!” his last word turning into a twisted howl.  Even as the beast was taking hold of him, he managed to finally get the door open and stumbled inside.  He slammed the door closed behind him and locked it.  He could still make it this time!  He could still protect innocent people from being harmed by his other “self.”

He ran to the bedroom, stripping his clothes off as he went.  He was naked when he reached the walk-in closet where his restraints were kept.  With the door closed, Dave was physically shaking from the pain.  The beast was almost here!  He lit a candle and quickly tied himself off, feeling for the first time that he actually might make it.  Using every last ounce of energy he had, Dave held the spoon over the candle’s flame.  He was shaking so bad that he had to use he could hardly hold the syringe steady as he sucked up the brown fluid.  Finally, with his willpower drained, he inserted the needle into the now exposed vein on his leg and pressed down on the plunger of the syringe.  The inner beast would soon be satisfied and Dave would have control again for another three or four days.  As he slipped into unconsciousness, he felt more than heard an almost imperceptible whisper from inside himself:

You’re not in control … I am …

New Arrival

“I don’t belong here!” cried the new addition to the Prison.

“Yeah?” asked the nearby guard, sarcastically.  “Nobody else belongs here, neither.  I’ll be sure to let the boss man know right away.”

“I mean it,” the prisoner continued.  “I’m not a bad guy.  I wasn’t supposed to end up here.”

The guard sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  He’d seen this reaction countless times before, but he decided to go easy on the guy.  “Look, I ain’t the Judge.  You’re here because you belong here, at least according to Him.  Look at bright side: you won’t be here forever.”

“I know you must have heard this sort of thing from other inmates before, but I really have to talk to someone with some authority on the matter.  The judge made a mistake.”

The guard could stop himself from laughing.  “Ha!  Mistake?  No, sorry, buddy but the Judge don’t make mistakes.  But if you want to talk to somebody, I’ll send somebody over.  Seriously though, save yourself the trouble and just make peace with your situation, it’ll just make it easier.”

The guard continued on his way.  Sometime later there was a knock on the prisoner’s cell and a tall man with dark hair and a warm, grandfatherly smile walked in.  "Hello. It’s Gregory, right?  You wanted to speak to someone about your Judgment?”

“Yeah, that’s right.  And, uh, call me Greg.”

“It’s nice to meet you Greg,” said the tall, grinning man.  He sat down on the single chair facing Greg, who took a seat on his bed.  “My name is Thomas, but you can call me Tommy.  How can I help you?”

“As I was telling the guard,” Greg said, “I don’t belong here.  I’m not a bad guy.”

“I’m afraid that’s not what your file says.  Multiple counts of tax evasion, embezzlement, and drug use are just a few of the items mentioned.  Why would you be exempt from punishment?”

“So I made a few mistakes.  Nobody’s perfect.  And shouldn’t you have my file with you if we’re talking about it?”

“I read through it earlier,” Tommy said, “and since I have a photographic memory, I didn’t see the need to bring the physical record.  And you aren’t here because you’re imperfect; if that were the case, I’d be here, too.  But you still have to make amends before you’re granted your freedom.”

“But isn’t there some other way?” Greg pleaded.  “I mean, I didn’t even think a place like this existed until a few days ago when I ended up here.”

“Not believing in the existence of something doesn’t make it any less real.  No, Greg, you’re here because you always justified your actions.  An extra drink on the weekend was okay because you were stressed out.  A lie to hide your gambling from the authorities was fine because you weren’t hurting anyone involved.  Going through multiple marriages and affairs because you were too passionate for one person.  You never changed and you convinced yourself that you didn’t need to.  I’m very sorry, but your sentence is just.”

Greg was shocked at how thorough his file was, but not enough stop him from replying with a rebuttal.  “What about all of the good that I did?  I volunteered at the Community Center for a while, I was a professor at a University where I shaped young minds, I even donated to charity.  Surely that means that my sentence is too harsh.”

Tommy nodded.  “That was all taken into account when your judgment was passed.  You have to remember that doing good doesn’t make up for doing bad.  Also, what were your motivations for the things you did?  You worked at the Community Center so you’d have some volunteer work to put on your college application.  You were a professor, yes, but you never really cared about your students; you often had your assistant both teach and grade assignments, you just oversaw everything.  And you gave to charity for tax breaks.  You only ever did anything if it benefited you.”

Greg was really at a loss for what to do.  Did he really have to accept his fate?  There had to be something else he could do.  Tommy seemed to sense his hopelessness and spoke up.

“Your time spent here can be put to good use.  You can develop your talents, take some classes to build new skills, or study and learn new things.  Have you had a chance to look over the orientation material yet?”

Greg looked at him confused, then grabbed a large orange envelope.  “Are you talking about this? It just has, like, a Bible and a study guide in it.”

“That’s a bit simplified, but yes, that’s the basic idea.  You should read up.  It’ll help you become better adjusted.”  Tommy stood up from the chair.  “Well, that does it for me.  If you have any more questions, try your orientation material first, but I’ll be happy to come and speak with you if need some additional help.”  He extended his hand to Greg, who shook it reluctantly.

“I still don’t think I should be here,” Greg grumbled.

“No, I don’t suppose you do,” replied Tommy, still with a warm smile “but you wouldn’t be happy 'upstairs,' either.  People are far too selfless for your tastes: I’m certain that it would really annoy you, at least the way you are now.  I’m sure I’ll see you again soon, Greg.” With that, Tommy left and Greg was alone to reflect on what had been said.  Without anyone else around and deprived of his usual distractions and vices, Greg’s thoughts were nearly deafening.

Contact

The following is the newly declassified transcript of the US government's first and only known encounter with extra-terrestrial life.

DATE: 14 June 1947, 0921
LOCATION: Outside of Roswell Army Airfield (RAAF)

CAPT [redacted]: Base, this is Capt [redacted]. Over.

RAAF: [redacted], this is Base. We copy. Over.

CAPT [redacted]: I'm picking up some weird fluctuations on my radio. Any idea what it might be? Over.

RAAF: What kind of fluctuations? Over.

CAPT [redacted]: Well, it sounds like woman's voice softly repeating a word again and again. Over.

RAAF: You're probably just picking up another channel. Over.

CAPT [redacted]: I thought that, but it's coming in over multiple channels. Plus, it's coming in clearer than your signal. Over.

RAAF: Are you hearing it now on this channel? Over.

CAPT [redacted]: Affirmative. Over.

RAAF: Well, what's the lady saying? Over.

CAPT [redacted]: Uh, I wouldn't call her a lady. She keeps saying[redacted]. Over.

RAAF: You're kidding me. Over.

CAPT [redacted]: [Laughs] That's a big negative. I told you, I can hear her clearer than I can hear you. Over.

RAAF: I'd tell you to ignore it but if the signal is strong enough to be heard loud and clear over multiple channels then it could compromise our communications. See if you contact her back and tell her get off her radio and clean up that mouth of hers. Over.

CAPT [redacted]: Roger. I'll switch to an empty channel to initiate contact, leaving this channel open for normal comm. Over.

[2.35 MINUTES PASS]

CAPT [redacted]: Base, do you copy? Over.

RAAF: This is base. I copy. Over.

CAPT [redacted]: I contacted the woman on the radio as advised. She responded but she said that she lost track of a probe and asked if I had seen it. I really have no idea how to respond. Over.

RAAF: She said that she lost a probe? Ask her to describe it. Over.

CAPT [redacted]: Roger. Over.

[0.55 MINUTES PASS]

CAPT [redacted]: She described the probe as disk shaped and bright silver. She said it should be flying in the area. Can we make her cut this non-sense out? Over.

RAAF: [redacted], you said that she said there should be a flying disc in the area? Can you confirm? Over.

CAPT [redacted]: Affirmative, but what does it matter? It's all hogwash. Over.

RAAF: Capt [redacted], we have unconfirmed reports in the area of a, quote, "unidentified flying object" that's been described as, quote, "saucer-shaped." Is this woman claiming responsibility for it? Over.

CAPT [redacted]: Uh, I think so. Base, what's going on? Over.

RAAF: Too soon to say. Contact her again, but stay on this channel this time. Ask her to increase her signal so that we can pick it up here. Over.

CAPT [redacted]: Roger. Contacting, eh, the unknown woman on the radio. Please increase signal strength of radio broadcast.

UNKNOWN: Is this better?

CAPT [redacted]: Base, did you hear that one? Over.

RAAF: Affirmative, [redacted]. Over.

CAPT [redacted]: Yes, we hear you. How did you know about the aircraft that was spotted today? Over.

UNKNOWN: I told you, it's my probe. So you've found it?

CAPT [redacted]: Please explain the purpose of the probe. Over.

UNKNOWN: I sent the probe down to gather information, but I lost contact with it. I think I forgot to charge the battery. I do that sometimes. I was able to get enough data to plug into my translator. That's how we're able to communicate. But you've found my probe?

CAPT [redacted]: I don't know. What do you mean, "translator?" You a Jap? Over.

UNKNOWN: No, I'm a Xendarian. I'm from a planet similar to yours but my star is a bit larger. I was sent on a peaceful mission to see if your people are interested in interstellar travel.

CAPT [redacted]: Get serious. You expect me to believe you're an alien? Over.

UNKNOWN: Tell me Capt [redacted], how can I have superior radio equipment to you? Also, your people on the ground didn't detect any unaccounted for aircraft in the area and yet my probe was clearly seen. Either I'm from a planet more advanced than yours or I'm using secret technology to play games with you. And before you ask if I'm hostile, if I'm as advanced as I say, you'd already be dead if I wanted you to be. I will be happy to land my ship and explain everything, I simply want to retrieve my probe first.

RAAF: This is the Roswell Army Airfield. We have collected the probe but it suffered heavy damage in a crash. It's mostly wreckage. Over.

UNKNOWN: [Sighs] That's disappointing. Well, I'll still collect what's left. I'll let you know when I'm ready to land.

CAPT [redacted]: This is all so strange. I must ask, why did you keep repeating that obscenity earlier? Over.

UNKNOWN: What do you mean? I was using inappropriate language?

CAPT [redacted]: You kept saying [redacted]. Over.

UNKNOWN: Yes, that's my name. I don't like having my translator find an equivalent in your language. I had tried to contact my probe with all of my other communications equipment but that didn't work so I tried calling out my name on different radio frequencies. Every Xendarian probe is programed to return when it hears its owners voice call his or her own name.

CAPT [redacted]: Your name is [redacted]? Over.

UNKNOWN: Yes. I've always liked it. What does it mean in your language? I haven't had a chance to look it up yet.

CAPT [redacted]: It means [redacted]. Over.

UNKNOWN: That's disgusting! How could you twist around such a nice name into THAT! You know what? Forget it. I'll mark you down as uninterested in our services. You don't deserve our tech. I'm out of here. Keep the probe for all I care.

CAPT [redacted]: Hello? [redacted], do you copy? Over.

RAAF: Her signal's gone dead. Over.

CAPT [redacted]: Base, what just happened? Over.

RAAF: I have no idea. No way General [redacted]'s going to believe this. Over.

CAPT [redacted]: I don't believe it and I was here! Do you think this one's going to be classified, just to cover up how weird this whole thing was, like with [redacted]? Over.

RAAF: Probably. Now head back to base. I have a feeling we'll need to debrief. Over.

CAPT [redacted]: Roger wilco. Over and out.

END OF TRANSCRIPT

Letter

Dear Host,

I wanted to thank you for finally letting me free.  You have so many tricks to keep me locked up that I was surprised that I finally got out.  In fact, if I had been acting alone I would probably still be hidden away in my prison cell.  I’m no fool, you see, so I had someone on the outside blow a hole in the wall.  After that, it was as easy as walking out.

I have to admit, you really worked hard to make things uncomfortable for me.  I like things soft and docile, like an obese cow.  (Heh, I’ll have to remember that one for the next time I see Cyn.)   Anyway, once I was free, I set to work rearranging the decor to better suit my style.  At first you didn’t notice.  I made little changes here and there.  Before you realized what was going on, I had moved in and was practically running the place.  Yeah, you still fight me now and then, and even knock me down from time to time, but I can already tell that there isn’t much fight left in you.

You see, all of your plans work better on my brother, Anxi, than on me.  You learned how to fight him pretty well.  You were winning practically every time you two fought.  And while he and I do have some similarities in our fighting styles, I’m much more subtle.  He’ll rush at you hard and fast, trying to knock you down with the first blow, but backing off if you stand your ground.  Much like how a crocodile will jump out and snap its jaws at its prey; if it misses, it won’t chase.  I, however, am more like a snake, sneaking up very slowly so you don’t see me and once I strike, I let my venom work its way into you, slowing you down until you drop.  Then I swallow you whole.

But you know all of that, don’t you?  That’s why even leaving the house is a victory these days.  There you are, going through the motions of improving your life, but all along the way I’m there, whispering in your ear that it’s a waste of time.  You’re still fighting, sure, but it won’t be much longer before you fall.  Just as the mouse will flail in the serpent’s jaws, your efforts are meaningless at this point.

And the best part is, you let me do it!  You didn’t know it, but you just stood by while I knocked down your defenses.  Even your basic bodily functions are in disarray!  Your bowels are a mess, you’ve put on weight, and my double-pronged attack on your sleep has you neither able to fall asleep or wake up.  With any luck, you’ll have trouble breathing soon and will even become disinterested in anything that used to bring you pleasure.  We both know that at the rate we’re going, it’s only a matter of time before I’ve won.

Sincerely,

Your Depression

Eloise and Thaddeus

Eloise had forgotten her parasol when she walked to the store one afternoon to purchase a new hatbox.  Because of this, poor Eloise was exposed to dangerous ultraviolet radiation and her skin was tanned.  Poor Eloise!  What a dreadful thing to happen to such a fair girl and with so many young men that she passed on her way.  You would think that at least one of them would offer to shade her beneath his newspaper, but you would be mistaken.  When Eloise got back home (with her lovely new hatbox), one would almost think that she had grown up on a farm.  Heaven forbid that any man should see her in such a state: he might think her lowly and common.  Most assuredly she would have to seclude herself from the public until her skin had a chance to heal and return to its normal shade.

Thaddeus slipped his white gloves on as he was leaving the bank where he worked and entered the waiting carriage.  He was a well-educated banking accountant and worked hard for Price & Sons Bank.  Well, he certainly did not work hard, but he was industrious. Perhaps overly so, because he now had an embarrassing blemish that he was nervously concealing: a blister on his right thumb from gripping his ink-pen for too long.  A paper cut was easy enough to explain, but a blister?  If anyone were to see such a pustule on him they might think that he was nothing but a common laborer.  He might as well stop doing anything civilized like waxing his mustache or taking his weekly bath.

Eloise looked out of the window from her bedroom where she had exiled herself.  She could see that the carriage her father had sent out was returning.  Who had he sent for this time? Likely some business associate that he wanted to impress by showing him around the grounds of the family estate.  It was just as well that she was not leaving her room because she hated to have to introduce herself and pretend that she knew who the businessman was.  But who was this?  This did not look like any of her father’s normal associates.  This was a younger man, whose lean frame was proof that he had never done any physical labor in his life, and his mustache was so thick and majestic that one would be forgiven to confuse it for pair of stray cats that had attached themselves to his face.  Well, perhaps a brief visit from her room was in order today.

Thaddeus was uncomfortable with home visits like the one he was in the middle of, but Mister Cheddar was an important investor with Price & Sons Bank and Thaddeus’ father liked to keep a close eye on men with their proverbial fingers in his proverbial pie.  As Thaddeus was feigning interest in the tour he was receiving, his attention was caught by someone exiting the house and walking towards them.  Not just someone, but a lovely young woman with soft features and practically no chin at all.  Thaddeus seemed to recall that Mister Cheddar had a daughter that was healing from an unfortunate run-in with the harsh light of day.  This radiant creature must be her, with her long blonde hair that was tightly wrapped in a bun and a plump lower frame that was clearly used to sitting comfortably.  Oh, he is to introduce himself?  Of course!

Eloise was by his side when Thaddeus awoke in the hospital bed.  When had he been brought here?  What had befallen him?  A doctor was fetched who explained that Thaddeus’ heart was far too weak from a lack of physical exercise and that he had had a minor moment of arrest, the cause of which the doctor did not know.  He further explained that Thaddeus should be sure to strengthen his heart by joining a cricket club or coming to the hospital for regular electrical shocks that would increase his vigor significantly.  His diagnosis rendered, the doctor removed himself to another patient’s bed, leaving the two young people alone.

How truly amazing!  This lovely young man with the slight frame and voluminous mustache had a weak heart and simply looking upon Eloise, even in her ruddied state, sent him reeling—to the point of needing attention from a medical practitioner.  Clearly, she had found herself a desirable gentleman.  If only she could say what she thought of Thaddeus, but it was common knowledge that nothing was as unbecoming as a woman speaking her mind.  Even to subtly intimate that she had opinions would be too much.  The best that Eloise could hope for was that Thaddeus would show a fancy to her.

What a shame.  She would be such a lovely young woman, if not for her dark skin. Thaddeus was no fool; he knew that just as he was expected to keep himself emaciated and well employed, young women were to keep themselves ample-bosomed and pale.  Eloise had maintained the first criterion without issue, but when looking upon her visage he had to remind himself that she was not from the Indian subcontinent.  Even so, had knew that she had spent too much time in the sunlight unprotected, so perhaps she would recover to a paleness that was not so much milky as translucent.  And how could he be one to judge so harshly when he himself was hiding an abscess on his dominant thumb?  Thaddeus decided that once he had had a chance to be invigorated with a few electrocutions that he would call upon Eloise to see if her skin’s tone had not been recovered.