by Jeff South
“You get it used to it,” I say.
“Group therapy is over,” announces Jeff. “Moonbeam, let us through. We’ve got a job to do.”
Within seconds the portal opens and we enter the psychedelic tunnel. The Cosmic Bus soars through and my ears feel as though they are going to pop off my head. At our top speed, we plunge through the opening at the river bank in Poplar Bluff and bounce onto the ground with a violent clonk. Jeff mashes the brake pedal and the clutch and shoves the bus into neutral as it skids into a donut before stopping. A cloud of dust settles outside and we peer out the windshield to four people waiting for us: Randi Williams, my parents, and Sandra Harper, also known as Jeff’s mom.
“Well, shit,” Jeff mutters.
“What?” Grandor asks. “Who is that? Is that Corporate?”
“Worse,” I say. “It’s our parents.”
*
Mom and Dad hold me tighter than ever.
“We were worried sick!” Mom pulls away and squeezes my face in her hands. “Why didn’t you tell us you were going through the portal?”
I try to speak but can only gurgle due to the shock of what I’m hearing.
“How long have you worked for Corporate?” Dad asks.
More gurgling.
“We fought off a swarm of Herpezoids,” Dad says. “They’re all over town and harder to track. Did you have to deal with any of them coming through?”
“One of those bastards scratched my arm bad.” Mom points at a nasty scrape on her right arm.
Gurgle. Gurgle. Gurgle.
“He might need a sedative.” Dad squints into my eyes and lightly pats my cheek. “Tony? Are you in there?”
“Jeff!” Sandra Harper walks to the front of the VW.
“Mom?” Jeff emerges from the Cosmic Bus and takes a few cautious steps toward his mother. She is a tall, leggy woman with auburn hair pulled into a ponytail. She wears a dark t-shirt, cargo shorts, and tennis shoes. On her hip is a holstered chrome-plated pistol, possibly a laser. I look at my mom and see she’s wearing the same outfit. Dad, too, wears a dark t-shirt and cargo pants. Randi’s outfit matches Dad’s. They all are packing heat.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Sandra asks Jeff. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do!”
Jeff looks at me, but all I can muster is more pathetic gurgling. My life has seen its fair share of awkward parental encounters. There was the Sneaking In An Hour After Curfew Episode when I was 16. I also recall the Busted Watching Softcore Porn On Cable Embarrassment when I was 14. And, of course, no roll call of my previous infractions would be complete without mentioning the Gin And Fresca Escapade a few weeks ago. I knew those incidents would result in some form of consequences at the hands of my firm but understanding parents. How does one’s parents, though, react to their son returning to Earth through a mysterious portal over a river after a week of adventures in space? How does one react to those same parents apparently aware that this has been the case all along?
“Who are you people?!” I finally yell.
Randi Williams places a calming hand on my shoulder.
“They’re with me,” she tells me. “I brought them here.”
I revert back to quiet gurgling.
“We’re in the same book club,” Mom says.
“Excuse me.” Grandor the Malevolent leans out the passenger window of the Cosmic Bus and gestures with an ink pen. Could I get some feedback on this haiku?
“Jackie or Leigh Ann;
A duplicitous wanker;
No matter the name.”
The world spins around me in a psychedelic blur. I feel myself leaning and then stumbling to the right, tripping over myself in a clockwise circle. My tongue feels swollen and my mouth dry. My chest tightens and a burning sensation shoots down my left arm. I blow air out of my mouth like dying locomotive.
“Bazoobadoo,” is all I know how to say before my world goes black.
*
I’m experiencing that moment when you’re fully aware you’re dreaming, like hovering above and watching the events unfold. I’m sitting at a table playing checkers with Jeff, who sits across from me in his usual get up: t-shirt, maroon tuxedo jacket with tails, tattered top hat. He smokes one of his cigarettes as he slides a piece on the board. The game pieces are shaped like the letter C. All around us are others play checkers, but not in the pairings I would naturally assume. Mom is with Marlene, who squares off against Grandor. At another table, Kevin makes his move in a game against Life Coach Gilbert. Leigh Ann sits at the table next to mine eyeing Max Gentry as he contemplates his move.
“Apricot?” asks Randi Williams, dressed in a penguin suit.
“I’m sorry?” I say.
“Would you like a fresh apricot? They’re quite delicious and an excellent source of dietary fiber.”
“I’ll take one!” Mom calls out. “I love apricots. I eat them on everything. Especially pizza and eggs benedict.”
Within seconds, everyone around me is calling for an apricot. Randi raises a hand to assure everyone she’ll get around to them. She turns back to me. “Apricot?”
I nod and reach up to select what I believe to be the perfect one, though I don’t know how to do that considering I’ve never eaten an apricot in my life. I grab a plump bright orange piece of fruit from Randi’s basket, suddenly aware that I’m wearing gloves. Then, I realize that the gloves are all I’m wearing. I’m naked. Completely naked. A warm rush of self-consciousness and panic spreads across my nudity and I squirm to cover the biggest thing I need to cover. Well, not the biggest thing. I don’t wanna brag. I cover the thing no one needs to see.
“It’s your move,” Jeff says.
“Sir?” Randi asks Jeff. “Would you like an apricot?”
“No, I’m good.” Jeff maintains his focus on our checker game. “Your move.”
I set the apricot down and toy with removing my gloves, but realize they represent the only stitch of clothing on me, so think better of it. I swallow hard and dart my eyes around to see if anyone notices my nudity. All seem blissfully ignorant or, somehow worse, willfully apathetic about it.
“Are you gonna move?” Jeff asks. “I’ve moved. Now, it’s your turn.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t realize you had moved.”
“Of course, I moved.” He takes a long sip from a glass of green Kwench-Aid, nearly emptying it. “You gotta pay attention.” He sets the glass down and it is full again.
I look at the board, the C-shaped pieces arranged in a way that suggests we’ve been playing a while. I’ve collected a few of Jeff’s and he, mine. I have a king and so does he.
“Move, will ya!”
I look up at Jeff to tell him to quit pressuring me and see he is dressed in a penguin suit. I survey the room and see everyone is now dressed as a penguin and happily devouring their apricots. I look back at Jeff only he’s not there. Replaced instead by Marlene, in the dress she had picked out for prom.
“Make a move!” she says.
This is followed by a succession of people sitting across from me wearing prom dresses: Mom, Dad, Max, Jeff, Randi, Leigh Ann, Kevin, even Grandor. All of them taking a turn to yell “Make a move!”
The next person to pop up in the chair is Simon Tybalt. He isn’t wearing a prom dress, opting for a t-shirt with a picture of a penguin on it. He doesn’t eat an apricot or yell at me to move my checkers piece. He only asks me a question.
“What are you afraid of?” His question freaks me out and I back away from the table. “C’mon, Tony,” says. “You have to face your fears. What are you afraid of?”
The others playing checkers gather around Simon’s side of the table, all wearing prom dresses and asking in near unison, “What are you afraid of?”
I push completely away from the table, still naked except for my gloves and stand to run away. When I turn, I’m instantly stopped by the site of countless carnies standing between me and the door. I back up, panicked, and turn around to seek the help of my fami
ly and friends. In their place stand countless figures dressed as penguins, pointing at me and laughing. I look back at the carnies, who start throwing rotten apricots at me. I scream out for help, backing away from the carnies’ attack. I stand to run toward the penguins only to be stopped by the presence of a Herpezoid, who opens his hungry mouth to devour me.
I wake up with a scream.
*
Why am I here?
I don’t ask in the how-did-I-end-up-in-this-awful-relationship way or the is-this-job-all-there-is-to-life way. I am sitting upright in my own bed after another nightmare. I pause for a brief moment. A nightmare. Is it possible that’s all this has been? A horrible, twisted, long nightmare? If so, where did real life end and the nightmare begin? Did the nightmare start with The Prom Night of Which We Shall Not Speak? Or did it begin with taking the job at Corporate? What if I’m still in the nightmare? I reach for my phone on the nightstand and flip to my Soul Torture Playlist. I press play for “Bubbly” and turn the music up full blast. I draw deep, cleansing breaths and wonder if this song should continue to have meaning to me.
“That is a lovely piece of music,” says a familiar voice. I look to the floor and find I’m not alone. Grandor the Malevolent – all eight feet of him – lies on a sleeping bag in my floor.
“What the hell?”
“Your parents let me sleep here last night. Lovely people.”
*
I’m riding in a minivan with two strangers I formerly knew as my parents. We’ve had this minivan for most of my childhood. My dad believes in a well-maintained vehicle so that you get the most life out of it. This minivan has transported me to school, to practices for ball teams I wanted not to be a part of, and to the movies when I was too young to drive. I’ve eaten fast food in here. I’ve listened to my parents argue and then apologize in this vehicle. I took my driver’s test with it. Mom and Dad let me use it for my first date with Marlene when my car was acting up. You could say this minivan has been an integral part of my life.
Now, I sit in my familiar seat in the middle row wide-eyed with confusion about the two people in the front. The man I’ve called Dad for all of my eighteen years is driving while the one known as Mom sits in the passenger seat. They’ve tried speaking to me, but all is I hear is blah, blah, blah, tried our best. Blah, blah, blah, made some mistakes. Blah, blah, blah, better communication. Grandor is scrunched up in the backseat. My body is in the van, but my spirit, my consciousness floats above and watches the proceedings. Finally, I pull myself back into the scene and blurt out.
“Who are you people?” I pant, as if saying those four words required the same physical power as sprinting up the face of Mt. Everest or bench-pressing a sperm whale.
“He speaks,” Dad says.
“Honey, we’re still your parents.” Mom shifts in her seat so she can face me and give me The Look. “It’s not like we’re about to tell you that you’re not our son.”
“Are we aliens?” I ask.
“What? No.” Mom reaches out and pats my knee, but I pull away, which upsets her. “Are you having another panic attack? Do we need to give you another sedative?”
“What is this, then? Why are you guys hiding something from me?”
Dad chimes in. “Are you sure you should be yelling at us for keeping secrets?”
“Yes! I should. You’re my parents. You’re supposed to be setting the example. Teenagers are expected to lie to parents. It’s weird if you don’t.” I withdraw into myself and sulk because sometimes as a teenager, regardless of the situation, you need to sulk.
“I never met my parents,” announces Grandor in an awkward interjection into the conversation. “I always imagine them fighting with me like you are now. Your altercation is warming my heart. Thank you.”
“Why is he with us again?” Dad asks Mom.
“Randi says we need him for information.”
“Where are we going anyway?” I stop my sulking long enough to be petulant. “Where are you taking us? Are we headed to some secret meeting where the truth will be revealed?”
Mom and Dad fall silent for a few seconds too long.
“Sorta,” Dad finally says.
*
The van pulls up to Someone Else’s Books, which is closed. No other cars are parked on the street and the lights are on inside the store.
“Why are we here?” I’m starting to put some things together, but hesitate to provide a hypothesis at this point.
“Book club time,” Mom replies.
“You need to know everything we know,” Dad says. “And we need to know everything you know. It’s time. Your mother and I work with people who know about Herpezoids. We fight them.”
“And you meet at Someone Else’s Books?”
“Yes,” Mom says. “Every Thursday at 8, unless there’s an emergency. We used to meet at the Waffle Palace out on the highway, but moved here.”
“Are you guys with Corporate like me?”
“No,” Dad says. “We’re separate.”
Grandor leans forward from the backseat and whispers in my ear. “Your life is very complicated, young man.”
“You have no idea.”
PART THREE:
KIERKEGAARD WAS RIGHT
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
We approach the storefront and Dad knocks three times. A single light bulb illuminates the threshold. I look up and down the street wondering if someone will drive by and wonder why a typical small town American family is standing on the stoop of bookstore with an eight-foot-tall alien. Main Street is quiet, though, on this humid summer night. The River Luau attracts most of the town.
The door opens only as far as the slide lock will allow it and a familiar face peers through the narrow gap. Kevin. Another person in my life who is not who I thought he was. Or, maybe he was. He talked constantly about the Herpezoid invasion and how he knew people who fought them. He wasn’t lying. I need a flowchart to keep track of all this.
“Hey, guys. C’mon in.” He spots Grandor and takes a step back. “Oh. Wow. Ok.”
“Thanks, Kev.” Mom leads the way into the store.
“That’s it?” I ask Dad. “You knock and he lets you in?”
“What did you expect?”
“I’m used to something more complicated.”
“This is Grandor the Malevolent,” Dad tells Kevin. “He’s the big development I texted you about.”
“Where’s Jeff?”
“He’s with his mom,” I tell Kevin. “They’re trying to find Jackleigh and his car.”
“Jackleigh?”
“More developments.” Dad rubs his face and walks past Kevin.
“Let’s get started, then.” Kevin leads us down the short hall and stops at the door marked “Private.” “Randi is already downstairs waiting and she brought Rice Krispies Treats.”
“All these years I’ve wondered what was the behind the private door,” I say.
“Now you’re about to find out.” Kevin stops me before I head down the stairs. “I told you Herpezoids were real. And you been holding out on me, you sly dog.”
Lighting in the basement is bright and cheery. Instead of the dank, musty, dreary setting from a horror movie I expected, it is an inviting place. A poster of Einstein sticking out his tongue adorns the far wall along with a map of Poplar Bluff covered by a scattering of different colored push pins. To my left sits a table of snacks, brownies, Rice Krispies treats, cheese and crackers. Bottled water cools in a bowl of ice. The furniture is modern and hip. A few chairs surround an oblong coffee table. Another wall serves as a rack for a variety of space age weaponry of shapes and sizes similar to those in Simon Tybalt’s moon base. I even recognize the JazzHands Phaser and Passive Aggressive Agitator. To my right, a row of laptops display what appear to be profiles of people whose faces I recognize, particularly Max Gentry.
Under the Einstein poster and map of the city sits an object that clearly doesn’t match the rest of the décor: a dilapidated, avocado green faux lea
ther couch. Sitting on the couch is Randi Williams, holding an unopened bottle of beer. She spots me and waves me over toward the couch.
“Tony. Glad you’re feeling better. Have a seat.” White stuffing is spilling out the sides of the corpse of sofa like guts. An odd odor of cat pee, old burritos, and death seeps from within it.
“Can I stand? I’d rather stand.”
“You’ll want to sit. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” She opens the beer with her teeth. I guess because she can. “I’m glad you showed. I know this is a lot to process.”
“How long have you known about the book club?” I ask her. “Why didn’t you tell me when I worked with you?”
“Randi joined our book club a few months back when we were revisiting To Kill a Mockingbird,” Dad says as he stands next to me.
“Also,” Mom adds, “she was being attacked by a Herpezoid and we saved her.”
“It was my pool league night.” Randi sips her beer and stares off. “I was walking to my car when one jumped me. They saved my ass and I assumed they were with Corporate.”
“So, let me get this straight.” I pull a bottled water from the ice bucket and take a sip. “My parents are part of an organization Corporate knows nothing about.”
“That’s right,” Randi says. She polishes off her beer, stands, and references the city map on the wall. “They told me all about their work. How sightings of aliens had increased. Herpezoids were taking control of human bodies. It’s been going on for years.”
“How?” I ask. “We guard the portal. We know if something comes through.”
“We don’t know that.” Kevin Raulston joins the conversation. “We only know they’re here. The Herpezoids are here as I said they would be and now they’re going to take over. Nobody listens to crazy book store owner guy, but who’s laughing now?”
“Wait a minute,” I say. “How is it my parents and my field trainer worked together but my name never came up?”
“We didn’t talk about you or our personal lives at all,” Mom says. “That’s common sense.”