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Utter Use Less Act Ivity Ly

Gus Savoie's picture

The lights are on and somebody's home. He waited in the car. He felt very relaxed like he always did before a job, or what he was training himself to refer to as a "project". His mind was clear, his limbs were light and he breathed easily and steady. He waited and it was good.

It was good, probably because he wasn't waiting for anything to happen or with any specific goal in mind; no predetermined signal to stop waiting. No, he had given up on that sort of activity because he did not like the way it put him on edge. Anticipation of having to stop waiting and perform some spontaneous yet entirely unchoreographed action was more stress than he was willing to experience voluntarily.

He noticed some movement then, on the second floor of the house. The lights on the main floor had been set into minimal luminance as the night-phase of this domicile had begun. He squeezed the knob of his Timex, illuminating its analog face in a pale cyan glow. Eleven P.M., give or take a few minutes. He had become quite vague with relating to time notation. Why be a neurotic slave to something that could never be definitively quantified? Ask a group of a hundred random watch-wearers for the time and you will get a number of answers ranging over fifteen to twenty minutes difference.

Besides, time was an illusion. An invention of human minds and primitive minds at that. Hardly something worth getting upset over, or even taking very seriously. He played a part in the time game as a way to blend in. In his way it was a polite nod to the customs of the natives.

They would be brushing their teeth, he imagined of the house's inhabitants, doing all of their pre-sleep rituals. Pulling the day's tangles out of their hair, flossing perhaps gouging morsels of food residue from between teeth with tiny metal brushes. Socks would be removed and little bundles of slightly moist lint would be plucked and pushed out from between freshly freed toes. Errant boogers were now being pried from their cosy nostrils. Urine pressed in great periodic streams into the dingy puddle of the toilet. Spit, rinse and one last look in the mirror at that worn old mask of the persona and then it would be time for bed. Lights out.

The upstairs light extinguished as if on cue, its rectangle vanishing against the dark exterior wall. He filled his lungs and let it out slowly, savouring his languid mood. His hands reached for the travel mug.

Hot caffeinated caffeine, his favorite. That was likely a problem but he had selectively decided to push that topic to the back of the shelf, next to the seasonally desired condiments in the refrigerator of his mind. habitual patterns are the enemy but sometimes they had their usefulness - like neurosis.

Cyqotix Mr. Tang

"It is your destiny." Spoke the demipresent Tang Ferociousity with nary a twinge of irony or self-deprication. "your density..."

"I'll never groin you!" Puke Thighblocker waggled his ample testicular sack 'o nine balls. "Ye shall know what great package of batches ye shall be upon thee and break me from these bonds of ridiculous language!" He roared with the griddle rage of a zillion dancing hotcakes and one sausage.

"Ho ho ho ho haw." chuckled Tang, a grin of mammoth grimosity exploding across the room like a laser -powered nuclear extension ladder. Smashed through the wall and ate a plate of pickles. Pickles on a plate.

"Matt?" Screamed the satanic eagle of furious retardation.

"Silence, bird." Tang waved his open palm laterally and then multi-laterally with no visible effect. "Shut your stinkin' beak." he was audibly annoyed.

The doorbell rang.

"Who the sweet fuckity fuck could that possibly be?" Puke peeled off his mask, revealing Doc's cherubic face.

"I forget the rule." Squawked the eagle in a hoarse whisper. "Is it polite to answer the door in someone else's home?"

"Not when you are breaking and entering, Eagle." I said.

"Ding!" said the doorbell again, in a matter-of-fact tone, somewhere inside the house. "Dong!" It finished.

"Shit, that is seriously weird."