At The Compound

The sun comes out in the afternoon. The streetlights were on and I yawned a lot. They say my brains bad, the consistency of a bruised banana, or flan (without the caramel). Maybe that’s why I like giraffes so much, they are mechanized, and I am not. I don’t know what exists anymore, I heard she died, but there she is, what time is it? I lift my tongue and swallow, everything stops, am I breathing? My chest hurts, when did I start bleeding? I swallow again and everything is moving again, am I breathing? Everything is yellow with black spots and I can’t control what I say, it all comes out, the whole enchilada, and then I am served nachos. Thanks ugly woman. I can’t go on dates because I speak my mind with tenacity, and it comes out very loud. Don’t let me stop breathing. When the sun came out the clouds stuck around, someone needed to flush twice, how long has it been now? You lose count from all the sedation, I used to drive, I used to go outside, I want to sing but I can never find my voice when the desire comes.
They say my brains bad but how do they know what’s good, they spend all that time looking at Hitler’s brain and imagining Morgan Freeman’s. I dream of becoming a centaur with a giraffes body, I join a herd and when their long necks swoop toward me I can’t resist the urge, but the suns out and it’s afternoon so everyone can see. They all laugh and I can’t get my tongue to move, its become whipped cream and I can’t control it, it can’t form any words because it’s too busy sloshing, I should have left it in the can. Tony Danza punched me in the throat in spit at me while I laid down recovering, he showed me who was the boss, but his regional manager came and now he is on the streets again, also, Angela is dead and has requested to be buried on the moon (can I make such a request). I have no money, I have no gears, all I have is nachos but they have become cold I don’t want to eat them anymore.
I can hear but my eyes are closed, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a condition, but there is yelling, that might have something to do with it. They say there was an accident and my lungs are burning through me. I hope amputation isn’t an option though if it is I would a kitten leg. I am Lemmy, and I will become a Megazord at last! The voices carry and I go to cover my eyes but they are closed and I still hear them. I want to close them tighter but they are as closed as possible. Is this what love feels like? My brother never told me and now it’s too late, I’m in love and I don’t even know it, am I breathing? I thought I told you to make sure I kept breathing.
Tell my landlord the walls were supposed to look that way, I am sure will keep asking anyway. Sometimes I press really hard on my eyes and see tiny little dots, like static on TV, my eyes are TV but the reception is horrible and no one will spring for cable, instead they autumn and winter with rabbit ears. I want to yell without making a scene so I hold my breath and count, 10 seconds, a new personal best. Tell me what you think of the savannah, I think it’s nice this time of the year, I think it’s a little dry. Drum roll, laughter, thank you, thank you. Your too kind! And then it all comes back to me.
Lemmy? You in there?
Yessum. My back hurts, I’m laying on the ground, on a rock, its imbedded in my back and now my back hurts. I look around and fight the urge to ask why everyone is dressed the same. The world is back to normal but my lungs hurt, I cough, and then my nose is filled with fire ants. They tell me to sit up and I stand, their hands are all around me and I feel like synchronized swimming.
Everything’s going to be alright. It took a couple minutes for her to spit it all out, of course everything is going to be alright, no one would tell someone that everything was going to be awful, well not here, probably back in New York they would. I look and her eyes are all black, she is tanned a nice golden yellow and her black dots are alluring, I’d never noticed before. She leans her long neck in and I can’t resist the urge and it is the afternoon so everyone can see. No one laughs, but I don’t think I’m in the herd anymore. I really need to learn to bat.

The world has ended, the world has ended and I am Macy’s. What do people buy for their funeral? Should I be buried or should I become lost at sea, I could be found either way. I don’t want a tuxedo, I don’t think I should dress nicer in death than in my short life. I should have known, I should have realized that I too could be affected. No one is immune to death. When I was a child I wanted to be a firefighter, like most boys my age, and then my father read me an article about three firefighters who died in a fire. It’s impossible, no one dies fighting, do they?
The one exception was Apollo Creed of course, he died so that Rocky could finally do what needed to be done. Tear down the iron curtain. There is a nice blue suit, but I think I will be die in khaki, or maybe a denim suit. One time I wore a blazer over a black turtle neck with jeans. The car, what would happen to the car, I was just put on rotation. Should I tell anyone, should i do something, I am not a man of action, I am Lemmy, I am Honey I Shrunk the Kids, I am an accident.
I envy women, when they get bad news they can eat a whole tub of ice cream, when a man gets bad news they drink, and I can’t drink anymore. I can’t drink anymore because it makes me think there are fire ants in my throat, it gets them under my skin, digging through the muscles. I hate insects, almost as much the Chad’s of the world. My dogs eat spiders, so there is no problem. I found a big beastie one in my shower before they moved in, I could see every eye, it was black. I left my apartment and stayed at a Best Western. That was when the pyramid was thriving, I had to rake my money into my wallet, I drank whole milk back then, now I’ve been reduced to skim. Off brand skim.
I should never have taken the bus, I always hear about people being mugged on the bus, I never should have taken the bus. It’s like when your mother tells you not to touch the stove because it’s hot, but you touch it anyway, and now your tongue is black. I’m a limp noodle trying on packages, and at best, I’m thinking a box is more appropriate than the plastic wrap. It’s less noisy, more comfy, maybe with one of those ceiling windows and a corduroy interior. I will have lines on my skin forever, and then I will become an ant farm, but the queen will live in a kidney, and reserve the other as a guest house. Long live the monarchy.
I am dying, the world is ending, and I never should have taken the bus. My hands are sweaty and my stomach hurts, I pull the pink bottle from my jacket pocket, take a quick sip and put it back in. My cheeks are wet, I’m crying, this time I know why.

the rest is a little bit of dialogue that doesnt really make sense without the part before this.