Little Green Men
I woke up to find him running around the room like a scared cat, throwing his arms up and down. His head was bobbing and he was mumbling something I couldn’t understand. He looked like he was having a Dustin Hoffman freakout, right out of that movie Rainman.
I sat up in bed and took a deep breath. I was dead tired and had to get up at the crack of dawn to take the kids into town and now I had to deal with this. “Robbie, what the hell is wrong with ya? You been drinking one of your midnight espressos? Ya know how I feel about caffeine.”
“Bright, it was bright. It was there. I dooodt knowmn.”
“What the hell ya saying, Rob? Did you take ya pills?” If he had missed another dose of that Paxil, I was never gonna get back to bed. He stopped pacing and looked right at me. It was like he had been sleepwalking and just woke up.
“Did ya see it Betty?” Rob hadn’t been this serious since the Buccaneers lost.
“Don’t think so Rob. What am I supposed to be seein’?”
“Them. God damn. Them!” He sprinted to the window and yanked the string to the blinds so they flew up. I leaned forward in bed and peered out the window. I could barely make out the field in the darkness.
“Shit. Shit. They gone. Oh but they gonna come back Betty. I promise they gonna. They told me they would. But its like they didn’t tell me like you would tell me, ya know? They said it to me but they didn’t talk, they just said it. Ya know?”
“What the hell kind of crazy talk are ya sayin’? Are ya talking ‘bout the Robinson’s? Did their kid get into that barn again? He’s one of them idiots ya know, you can’t blame him. He ain’t right in the head.”
Rob spun around from the window and faced the creeky bed that was almost as old as the house. I noticed his red flannel shirt was torn down the side. “Betty are ya listening to me? Martians, ya hear me? They were Martians out there. They had these pointy things coming out of their arms. And their eyes, they were just black circles. As dark as the buttons on your nightgown Betty. And there was this big one and he…”
“Rob, what the hell is wrong with ya? It ain’t April fools. Ya think this is funny? Ya keep talkin’ this gibberish and some men in white coats are gonna come for ya.” I hadn’t married Rob for his intelligence but the guy was usually only a little off. He was the type who would forget where he parked the pick-up or that he was supposed to pick up Laurie from school, but this was just plain out of character.
“Robbie, did ya…”
“Ahhhhhhhh….” He dropped to the floor and his head shot backwards in pain. “Make it stop Betty. Make it stop.”
“What the hell Rob, what’s wrong with ya?” I didn’t know what to do. I kneeled on the edge of the bed, watching him thrash about.
“My neck, Betty. It’s on my neck!” He put his hand around to his back and pulled his flannel shirt down. Then with his other hand he grabbed the rubber band holding his ponytail and lifted his hair up.
“Oh my God Robbie. Oh my God!”
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Portland Fiction Project
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