Saturday, March 7, 2015


Billy's body was still. The tiny wet praying mantis things were gone. Someone stood over Jamba (the orangutan) reading stanzas out of an old book. Apparently there was no time for memorization, so they just read. I know not who the reader was. Many of the players in this farce I do know. For it is I, Zebulon, the disembodied spirit, who narrates this passage. 

Jonathon and Sarah waited in another room filled with aroma candles and supplied with specially flavored bottles of chilled, top shelf vodka. Whoever set up the room had only a rudimentary knowledge of night-folk. While those trappings may have distracted certain baser sorts of vampires under normal circumstances, Jonathon and Sarah were more assimilated than that. Besides, they were far from relaxed. Billy was essentially 'family' and they were very concerned. So they sat there in silence. Jonathon closed his eyes, conjuring the dry, sunny hills of old Al Andalus. Sarah just stared at a vase filled with flowers. There was piped in music, Oklahoma, but they didn't listen to that.

God knows what formerly arthropod sentient spirits think about. What does life smell like to them? This one claimed nativity on a cultivated world, rather like Edwardian, or late Victorian Britain, but with equine sized praying mantises, given to promenades through the park and musicales filled with stringed instruments easily plucked by spiky, mantid 'hands.'

Could be that our esteemed humanity was no big thing to him? What he wanted was a body...some container... a physical way to interact and taste the mortal world for a while. A telepath... a technician specially trained, in an effort to enhance his already natural abilities, stood by Jamba's stainless steel table, providing a running commentary on the thoughts and images rising up from the dazed, red ape. .... He said - sleepy..No words. Just an image.....

Another functionary, a woman in a white coat, gestured toward Billy and said - What else? What do you get from him?

He said - I don't know. Nothing's coming through. Aren't you getting anything from the sensors? My God, you got him so wired up. Don't blame me. What are YOU getting?

She just gave him a look. Goddamn 'level six' giving her grief!? She don't care about him. Franklin tooled around on his little scooter going - Children! Children! We're all here to learn. Remember that. Calm down.

The thing is, formerly insectoid spirit creatures are so different. Maybe not in the absolute. Honey bees dream too, after all. But this thing just looked like an Earth-bug-thing. Who knows what it really was all those eons ago? So they waited some more.

Little while later, Franklin goes - What do you get now?..... Level six telepath says - He's free. The human one, over there, is free.......His name's Billy. They call him Billy. Use his name - goes Franklin..... The telepath says - He seems to be inhabiting the totality of his brain again. 'Billy' I mean...... And the entity? - asked Franklin..... I don't know - goes the Level Six guy.

But five feet away, Jamba, the orangutan, suddenly sat up, opened his eyes, grabbed 'Level Six' by the forearm, shoved his hand all the way down his throat and bit it off. Then he bolted 'round the room like a simian bullet, shattering equipment and scattering terrified staff people, all the while shrieking like a banshee. Level Six guy spouts blood all over the place. Chocolate fountain at Golden Corral can't gush that much blood. Guy goes white, collapses onto the floor and thrashes around like a fish.

Franklin goes - Jesus Christ!... pulls a one eighty and tears out a there...... God bless that scooter. I'll tell you that.... Speeds down the hall yellin' - Get the guards! Get the guards! Get the guns! Get the guns!... before disappearing 'round a corner.

Two Level Threes wheeled Billy out a there real fast..

Think the Level Two guy channels spirits real good now, because he is one...

<more next time>


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