TAKE THESE PILLS, THE BUSHMAN SAID

It was around midday—12:32pm, if such technicalities matter to you. Mike sat in his favourite chair on the front porch, rocking idly in the sun, when a pang of noonday hunger stirred in his gut. He decided he wanted a sandwich from the local deli.

It was a good day for a walk, so Mike laced up his shoes while he mulled over whether he felt like ham or chicken. The sun was bright, and Mike felt good about his options. Some days you could just tell you were going to enjoy a nice sandwich, and this was one of them.

As Mike rounded the corner, he spotted his friend Terry up ahead—faded jeans, bright floral shirt—pacing the footpath and muttering to himself.

“Hey Terry, new shirt?”

“Shhh. Don’t move,” Terry said, grabbing Mike by the shoulders. “Stay perfectly still.”

“…what’s going on?”

“I don’t mean to alarm you. But someone is watching us.”

“Who?”

“Out there.”

“Out where?” Mike said, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t see anyone.”

“Not out here. Out there!” Terry said, trying to point in your general direction, but failing miserably.

“You’re starting to scare me, Terry.”

Terry grabbed Mike with the strength of a crazed orangutan and dragged him into a nearby shrub. They crouched, hidden in the thicket among sharp branches that pressed inexorably into Mike’s back. Up close, Mike couldn't help but notice Terry’s enormous pupils—two black buttons—and his breath smelled like sour onions.

“You’ve been taking those pills again, haven’t you Terry?”

“No, I haven’t…” Terry whispered, rubbing his eyeballs furiously and sniffing a lot.

“Ok, I have. But that’s beside the point. The fact of the matter is, there is most definitely, most certifiably, most undeniably, someone out there watching us right now,” Terry said, peering through the foliage and looking right at you.

“I can see them.”

“What do they look like?”

“Well, they’re kind of ugly.”

“And why are they watching us?”

“It’s hard to say. By the looks of ’em, probably some kind of pervert, most likely. Someone who gets off on peering into other peoples’ worlds and spying on their business. Reading us as if we lived in a little story, existing solely for their own amusement, like ants, without lives and feelings of our own. That sort of thing.”

“That’s sick.”

“It sure is, pal. And would you believe it, they’re still watching us!”

“Well, I best be off now.”

“Wait! You don’t believe me, do you?”

“No. Not really, Terry. We're sitting in a bush, my back hurts, your eyeballs are popping out of their sockets, and you smell like a dog’s arse. All I want is my fucking sandwich, man.”

Terry reached into his pocket.

“Here, take some of these pills.”

“I’m not taking those pills.”

“Oh yes you bloody are.”

“No I’m not.”

“Here, take it.”

“No.”

“Just here, I'll help you.”

“Wait, no! What are you doing? Get off me Terry. You can’t force that down my, argh…”

The shrub jostled violently by the side of the footpath. An elderly couple made sure to take a wide berth as they passed, doing their best to ignore the strange guttural sounds coming from inside the shrub.

“There! Now, do you see?” Terry said.

Mike coughed, spat, swore—then froze. His eyes were two large black discs, and he was looking right at you.

“You can see them now, can’t you?”

“Jeez… you weren’t kidding.” Mike squinted.

“They are ugly.”