It’s quiet in the house, save for the tea kettle steam engine puffing on the stovetop. The whistle now pierces the air, and she goes to move it away. She sighs, readies her tea cup, and pours in the hot water. As it steeps on a cold Halloween morning, she moves the window curtain aside and gazes out into the backyard. There a figure stands, still as stone, red eyes glowing in the head. The woman quickly moves the curtains back, presses a hand to her heart, and wonders. Surely it is merely an illusion, she thinks. How could there be somewhere there? She was out in the deep country in a lone house surrounded by trees and space to breathe. If I just move the curtain aside again, he’ll be gone, she thinks.
Once more, she moves the curtain aside and peers out. There the figure stands, the red eyes even closer now. She quickly moves the curtain back and dashes to the front door. She presses her body against it, checks the lock, and looks through the peephole. There, a red eye looks back at her. “Go away!” she screams as she backs away from the door. Then there comes the pounding. So hard that the door rattles. The woman screams again and darts upstairs. She moves to the wall phone in the hall, picks up the receiver, and discovers the line is dead. Downstairs, the pounding continues. She returns the receiver to its cradle and the phone suddenly rings. She picks it up with a trembling hand. “Hello,” she says in a whimper. “Let me in,” the voice on the other end hisses. “Or you’ll be sorry.”
Then she hears the front door downstairs shatter and crumble. The thing out there has kicked it in. A muffled voice calls out, “Anybody home!?” Then there’s a laugh, a laugh like no other she has ever heard. She slips to the floor, so scared and panicked she can no longer move. Then she sees the figure loping its way up the stairs. He’s holding an axe. The red eyes are on fire. The mask surrounding them is hideous. The figure reaches the top of the stairs and the spot where the woman is hunched against the wall and crying. He holds the axe high above his head and lets out a horrifying scream of impending violence and death. Then as the terrified woman whimpers and moans there on the floor, the figure lowers the axe and removes the mask. He works to loosen the mechanical eyes. He looks down at her and grins, “Hey honey, Happy Halloween.”
It’s Christmas Eve in a town the color of burgundy and pine
Cold stars and tattered clouds float within the inky-bruised canopy
Store windows glow yellow, the brick of the small buildings are the color of slightly burnt toast
People shuffle along the walks frosted with fresh snow
They peek into the shop portals and feel awe in their guts
There’s the smell of wood smoke in the air
Snow slowly falls and the world is night white
A glow-worm bomb cascades from the moon
Refrigeration hums in the sundry shop
Eyes spin in the fruit heads that lie there
The faithful gather at the church on the corner
A white rigid lance pointing to the heavens
Mistletoe muffins are passed around with glorified giggles
Soon everyone is kissing
And God draws the shades
Bible-like fornication ensues on the pews
The angels and the Earth women
Erich von Däniken bursts through the door and exclaims:
“I knew it! I was right.”
Homes are cold on Christmas morning
The rising sun begins to crackle the ice
A boy and a girl scamper down the stairs to see what Mr. Claus has brought them
But in his stead there are creatures by the lighted tree
The aliens are busy stacking presents wrapped in silver and gold
Their large eyes blossom and their heads turn
The girl screams, the boy runs back upstairs
One of the visitors holds out a cockle squash
The girl’s mind suddenly changes
She goes to the aliens and takes the oddly shaped gourd
She holds it in front of her face, and she wonders
As she sees space within it
Floating stars, zooming orbs, spinning planets
Is this another mind?
Or a diamond mine?
The aliens suddenly retreat through the walls
The fireplace lights up on its own
The girl reaches up and puts the cockle squash on the mantel
She steps back, cocks her head to one side and looks at it
Christmas music on the hi-fi warbles and then comes to full life
The parents and the boy come rumbling down the steps
“What happened down here!?” the father wants to know
The girl turns to look at them
“Hello, my P and M. We had visitors from Christmas space… And they gifted us with a cockle squash.”
She points to the mantel
And everyone claps and smiles
“I’ll get us some egg nog,” the mother says, and she rushes off to the kitchen
The father stands with his children
One on each side
And they worship the gourd with their eyes
“There is something so odd and mystical about it,” the father says
The girl looks up and asks: “After Christmas, do you think I can keep it? I think I’d like to sleep with it.”
The boy laughs out loud. “Only a weirdo would sleep with a cockle squash.”
“Shut up, Brian!” the girl snaps
“Stop it. Both of you,” the father demands
The mother returns to the room holding a tray
“Let’s sit down and sip this egg nog faithfully,” she says. “And then we’ll get ready for church.”
“We don’t need church,” the girl says. “We have the gourd.”
“How dare you speak of such a thing!” the mother scolds
She reaches out a hand and slaps the girl across the face
The girl winces and begins to cry
“Now listen here, Mabel. There is absolutely no need for that! It’s Christmas for Christ’s sake,” the father berates…
And the aliens watch the drama unfold in the household with the cockle squash. They can view everything through it… the screams, the taunts, the disappointed reactions to Christmas gifts, the lack of true joy in Amorika. For they are the angels watching. Not from clouds, but ships.
CEREAL AFTER SEX 