The Mute Lobster

The neighbors were at it again. I couldn't hear them, but I observed the displeased look she flashed him when he walked through the front door around three in the morning one day last week. His lips didn't appear to move, possibly out of fear, but he was as quiet as night from what I could tell.

Soon after he walked through the front door, she started screaming and walking in and out of focus. I imagined her slamming doors or breaking things in the kitchen because of some unspeakable relationship crime her lover had committed. Of course, I didn't see any of this happen, but I can only guess as to why he had this look of horror on his young face.

"Run, stupid! Get the hell out of there!" I yelled out into my empty room. My outburst echoed all around me, which made me feel extremely embarrassed. I turned away from the fight scene next door and looked at the old stuffed lobster sitting alone on my bed. I can't really say for sure, but he seemed to be embarrassed, too. Even though I thought better of it, I opened my mouth to apologize but immediately remembered I've been a mute for the past five months.

When I turned back to my more interesting neighbors, all that stared back at me was blackness. Was that really the end of their saga? To convince myself that I wasn't crazy, I pressed down on the big black button on my digital camera to take a picture. I'd probably forget about it the next day, but I wanted to have it just in case.

After eating some left over noodles I found in a container with the letter "B" written in black permanent marker, I walked over to the neighbor's house to attempt to solve the mystery of the fighting neighbors. Now, however, I write to you with even more questions - their windows were boarded up with some old wood and rusty nails.

My slightly irritating roommate followed me next door but was disappointed when she found exactly what I did. There's absolutely nobody living next door, but I vowed to both myself and Anita (my annoying roommate sans lobster claws) to prove that there was an entire world living in that old house.

When everyone was either gone or unconscious in their respective bedrooms, I snuck away to the beautifully landscaped park across the street and started looking through the pictures on my digital camera. Since it was an older model purchased from the local pawn shop, it only held around 20 or 30 pictures. It didn't take me long to go through the 18 shots of blackness that I had taken over the past three weeks.

It's true. I confess. I am absolutely crazy. The complete truth is that the fighting neighbors I witnessed last week wasn't the only anomaly I observed in my time here at the halfway house. It seems I'm always halfway in between becoming a human being and solving a universal mystery. The problem is that I normally seem to levitate on this planet with one foot into madness and the other somewhere approaching sanity.

So, while I looked through the pictures in my digital camera, something large and out of the ordinary crossed the street and walked right into what appeared to be my back yard. I couldn't tell for sure because it happened so fast, but it was certainly still in the vicinity. When I glanced back down to the camera, there they were - the lady and the young man that I remember seeing last night. And, let me tell you! I stared at that picture until the battery ran out!

When the battery finally did run out, I ran as fast as I could across the street and crept into my back yard. Since I wanted to be smooth and stealthy, rather than open the creaky gate, I climbed over the top of that old wooden fence. As I swung my leg over to jump down, I froze when I saw Anita pulling weeds around one of the flower beds. I waved my arms about wildly to get her attention, but she was in her own little world. She didn't even notice when I lost my balance and fell to the ground, ripping my pants on the way down.

As I walked across the yard to the neighbor's fence, I kept my eye on Anita. She couldn't have been more boring if she had been asleep. That's okay, you keep pulling those weeds. Maybe someday you'll convince yourself that they actually exist.

When I reached the neighbor's fence, I spied on them through a small hole that had been plugged up with old chewing gum. That is, until I pushed the gum out. I watched diligently while the couple walked from their back porch and into the yard. They were having an intense discussion, but even from where I stood I couldn't hear what they were saying. Instead, classical music played as if I was listening to head phones. Paranoid and frightened, I turned around to try to determine where the music was coming from, but the source was concealed or perhaps invisible. I looked back to the fighting couple.

The music played on and the man and woman argued into the night. When the night went pitch black, I was still sitting there watching them. Without noticing me trespassing on their intimate moment, they went about their business. They stopped arguing and quietly dug a large hole in the yard. It could have been minutes or hours, but they finally stopped digging and disappeared for a few minutes. When they returned, they each held a large black trash bag with something heavy inside each of them.

Behind me Anita screamed as if someone had crept up behind her and slit her throat, but no such luck. A snake had slithered passed her and scared the living daylights out of her. I thought to myself, are you still pulling weeds, girl? But, I dare not open my mouth or something resembling the truth might escape, whatever that may be. When I turned back to the midnight garbage burial, the couple was gone and so was the hole. I quickly escorted Anita inside and we reluctantly went up to our rooms and climbed into bed.

The next morning, I woke up alone and found myself covered in a large mass of dirt. I imagined myself lying paralyzed in the neighbor's big hole with nothing but a plastic spork to dig my way to clean-aired freedom. I could hear muffled voices arguing, but I couldn't make out a word of what they were saying.

Moments later, a painful scream echoed right through my ears. Anita jumped on top of me and started shoving dirt into every possible orifice she could find on my body.

"Where are the weeds?" I shockingly asked Anita.

Anita screamed even louder and ran out of the room. I'm not sure where she went because I never did see her after that odd morning. As a matter of fact, I can't even recall seeing myself.
I write to you today from behind a locked door. This room is a stranger to me, but at least I still have my old friend, the lobster. He's bigger, much bigger, and seems to twitch uncontrollably when I inch closer to him.

He doesn't speak though.