They're Here for Us

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Hank peeks through the peephole and sees a short, dirty malnourished man with a dingy old cane.  

“Go away, Tom, I just got home from work, and I am not in any mood for you today.” 

Bang! Bang! Bang! Tom smacks his cane on the door. 

“They’re here, they’re here for us; Hank, let's go hide.” 

“No, Tom, they are coming for you and your drugs if you don’t get off them.” 

Tom was the town crazy. Every day he would run around town telling everyone how “they” took him and were coming back for them all. Says he’s “trying to save us” and that he has “a place for us all to hide.” No one knew where Tom lived or what he did for income, but he was always around, always annoying, and always had that damn cane.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Damn it, Tom, go the hell away. I am not in the mood for your crap today.”

“They’re coming, they’re coming for us, Hank,” Tom yells through the door, then 

screams at the top of his lungs before going silent. 

Hank sprinted to the door and ripped it open ready to take Tom on, but nothing but his dingy old cane was on the porch. He picked it up, threw it out into the yard, and slammed the door shut. 

What is up with this dude? 

Why would he just leave his cane?

Why is he so annoying?  

Everything was quiet now, and Hank took another peek to see if Tom had really left. He let out a huge breath, relieved that he didn't see him anywhere and could continue his nightly routine in peace.

Hank washed up, put away his lunch box, and began making his Friday dinner, spaghetti and toast. Not many changes in life from week to week since his parents died in that boating accident 18 years ago. He was only 25 at the time and still lived at home. He kept their run-down house but didn’t know what to do with his time, so he started his routine. Same job at the cardboard plant, same meals every week. No family and no friends. It’s what worked for him. It’s what kept him sane. It's what kept him happy. If his schedule got messed up in any way, he would panic and get so angry that it would drive him mad. Work, food, tv, and sleep are his top four activities.   

Hank sits in his favorite recliner with his spaghetti and toast and grabs the tv remote. 

Click!

The tv comes on, but there's just a black screen.

What the hell?

Click!

Click! Click!

No. No. No. Not the tv again

Click! Click! Click!

Click! Click! Click!

Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! Click! Click!                                   

“You piece of crap”

Smash!

The television remote breaks into pieces after he throws it at the wall. Enraged, he

manages to spill his spaghetti and toast onto himself and the floor.

Smash!

The spaghetti plate crashed alongside the tv remote as he stood up from the recliner. He began pacing back and forth across the living room while the spaghetti mess clung to the dingy wall. He pulls his phone from his pocket and attempts to call the cable company. No calls would go through. He pulls up a browser on the device and searches for his cable company, but the internet is down. 

Smash!

The cell phone takes the same direct route knocking off the few pieces of spaghetti clinging to the wall.

He mumbles, “Why do they do this to me? They always take what you love.” 

Now he was Yelling and screaming about how “the Man” kept messing with him. Pacing turned into stomping as he went up and down the stairs, in and out of all the rooms, and cursed “the man.” 

It’s now 8 pm Friday, clothes are laid out, the floor spaghetti and toast mess from his earlier fit are cleaned up, and lunch for work Monday is prepped. He has run out of things to do. All Hank knows is work, food, tv, and sleep. Pacing back and forth again, mumbling under his breath, “they are always messing with me; I’ll show these pricks they messed with the wrong dude.” 

He spent the next two days pacing and planning what to do about these “pricks.” He’s thought of everything from heading down to their offices and giving them an earful to setting their building on fire. He literally wore himself out with his rage and pacing each day, thinking about how he was constantly getting screwed over and what he could do about it. He concludes that at work on Monday, he will use the company computers (since “the man” turned off his internet and tv) and look up his cable company's address. Then he will march down there and let them know he’s had enough and won't stand for this nonsense anymore. 

Hank has calmed down with his new plan, knowing he will get a resolution tomorrow after work. 

The alarm sounds, and Hank jumps out of bed and starts his Monday routine. Time to return to work, time to let those tv punks know whos boss. Lunch is packed, cereal has been eaten, and he is all dressed and ready.

Hank inserts the key into the ignition. 

“Vrooooooooom”

“At least the damn car works,” Hank mumbles. 

As he pulls out onto the street, he notices no other cars, no signs of life. 

“wtf” Hank whispers.

Am I still dreaming?

Is this what Tom was warning us about?   

Thinking about the cane left on the porch, he realized that Tom, the tv, and the internet may be a bigger problem than initially thought. 

Maybe they are all hiding, but the animals are too WTF.

Hank steps out of the vehicle to better understand this bizarre situation. Instantly a tiny beam of light shines down on him from above. Tom looks up but can’t see anything but a light brighter than he could imagine. Looking back down, he sees his feet and legs pixelate and disappear. 

“They're here; they're here for us.” 

Screams!