Black helicopters are pretty much made on purpose to be hard to see at night, and it’s foggy with no moon. But I think I see shapes coming up from close to the ground, swirling a little, going to the left sometimes and sometimes to the right but always getting closer.
And closer. And still closer.
OK, already. Turn on your bright lights. Land and kidnap me, or shine down your mind rays so I pass out and wake up on the Mothership … But nothing.
Maybe I’ve been kidnapped and my organs operated on for fun, and I can’t remember it. Except I still hear the helicopters and they’re not getting closer. So decide to walk ahead and make it easier for them.
I walk about twenty feet and the helicopter wind blows dust in my eyes. I keep walking. Now the helicopters are on both sides of me. And now they’re behind me, and the wind’s still making my eyes itch. Which isn’t right. And the sound is awfully low to the ground, so low I can stomp on it.
Literally. Because the sound is coming from a boombox.
From two ipod boom boxes, about twenty feet apart, playing helicopter sounds in stereo.
OK, that’s more than cool.
Glenn, I’ll email you the mp3 files. Instead of falling all over yourself to apologize for not showing up, just analyze the damn things. And, yes, I’m getting the heck out of here. Even if they’re only flying boom boxes at me instead of real black helicopters, I get the message. — Flyss
P.S. I’m emailing them to Stephen, too.