Let Them Eat Static

Around 1 A.M. the interference on the scrambled channel seems to fade.

Not much. Just enough that you could make out shapes that could be people

Sounds that could be moans

When they didn't sound like chipmunks suffering the torments of Hell.

You had to use your imagination.

But there was definitely something going on

Somewhere

In that snowstorm of pixelated shit.

Sexy things were happening on Channel 13.

Sitting on the floor on either side of the TV stand

Up close to the screen but enough space left in between you for privacy as each one did

Whatever it was he was doing over there.

All frictious noises are to be ignored.

Keep your eyes on the screen at all times.

It was the unspoken rule of boys' sleepovers:

There could be NO LOOKING at each other when the porno was on

And especially no eye contact.

But from the moment you started

You could feel his eyes

Moving over you and breaking the compact.

Every time you glance over there

To catch him in the act

He's always just looking away.

Face half blue in the television light.

Eyes back to the screen and you feel it again.

Again and again

Until you catch him staring

And when you stare back

He doesn't look away.

Reminds you a little of the way he looked

At the animals featured in his backyard atrocity show.

Was he thinking of doing to you

What you both spent the afternoon doing to those frogs?

Buried to the neck

With their jaw blown off.

He'd probably do it when you went to sleep.

Firecracker in the peehole

Fuse burning down

Until the swollen purple dickhead popped

Or split down the middle

The way Mom used to cut up your hotdogs when you were little.

You'd have to get him first.

So make like an adventurer and look around the room

For anything you can use to defend yourself.

On the wall

There's a fireplace poker

Glued to the fake brick of the fake fireplace.

Commemorative plates showing scenes from My Lai are gathering dust on the mantle.

On the coffee table

There's a crystal candy dish full of hard candies.

The strawberry kind nobody likes.

It looks heavy. Sharp corners.

You're already up and reaching for the dish

When you realize in a panic he's doing the same.

Your hands close around it and you bring it up hard.

Hear his teeth clack as his jaws snap shut

When it hits him right under the chin.

He staggers on his feet and you sieze the advantage

Raise it over your head and smash it on his.

The crystal doesn't break but his head breaks open

And an artery paints a red slash across the room.

Hot blood sizzles on the TV screen.

Little foil strawberries are scattered around.

There's a bang and a shout from the upstairs bedroom

His parents heard the noise and they're coming down the stairs

And when they see the mess here

Your life is over.

Unless...

You remember the gun cabinet

In his Dad's study

And the .223 that he told you was loaded.

Time to clean house.

Get them

Before they get you

No choice but to do

What you have to do.

Room after room

House after house

Street after street

Until the world is clean.

NO WORDS

Let them eat static

Frankenstein mind control is automatic

when they find out it was one of their kids

they'll be wishing that you died of SIDS

while in the crib

SAY NOTHING

Let them eat static

The boy android has got them in a panic

The worst infraction that the HOA forbids

Is the door to door slaughter of pigs

And so you did