By Dan Hoeweler
The aliens hover high in space building plots, schemes and thought control devices to be planted in the heads of those they despise. At nights they insert these in certain human’s despicable heads to make them their slaves. This makes these lesser creatures behave as they wish in a manner they decide. Like puppets these hated humans are destroying the lives of those whom they love.
Fred is a man who has many of their contraptions within him. A microchip in his head planted by these outer space creatures controls his thoughts and actions, making him a machine of destruction. It speaks to him daily, giving him company in his loneliness. It tells him evil ideas, wanting him to kill himself and destroy those that surround him.
“I’m going to get you Fred, one of these days I will destroy you”
”I know you are speaking with me now, my aliens. Someday I will escape from you and your evil ways. I will find a way to trick you just as you have tricked me”.
Fred sits in his comfortable bedroom chair thinking of ways to destroy the electronic devices the aliens inserted within him. He tires of being monitored and controlled by alien technology. He thinks of an idea then goes to the bathroom and glides his fingers slowly over the surface of his body, jabbing at certain areas. He finds a lump on his forearm which he pokes hard at believing it to be the device he has been searching for.
Opening his drawer he finds a rusty knife and places the blade on his skin cutting slowly and deeply several times till its blade scrapes against the bone. Blood drips to the floor, yet his mind is concentrated solely on the removal of the tracking device. Cutting a straight three inch line he places his fingers into the wound feeling around for the tracking device.
“What are you doing Fred? Look at you standing there covered in blood with the mess you have made on the floor. Your mother just bought you that rug.”
“I’m sure you find this very entertaining. I am sure you think of me as some sort of play toy you like viewing.”
“Yes you are. My friends and I are sitting in front of the spaceship’s monitor watching a comedy going on right now.”
Fred throws the rusty knife at the wall in frustration. His gaping wound is flooding the floor with fresh blood, yet Fred feels little physical pain.
“Give up Fred you are stuck with me. If you struggle I’m just going to make it worse for you.”
Fred paces thinking of new ways to stop the aliens, cursing at the top of his lungs while doing so. He goes to the basement, takes his electric drill and then walks back up to the bathroom. He stares at the mirror.
“I know you are in there, you bastard.”
He holds the drill and places it on the forehead. With no anesthetic Fred begins to drill attempting to perform brain surgery in order to remove the microchip within his head. He drills slowly and methodically, penetrating deep inside the skull. Once he reaches the outer wall, he pulls the drill out, and blood begins to ooze from its crevice. Looking into the mirror, he sees a long stream of blood running down his forehead. He soaks the blood with a dry rag located on top of his laundry basket in order to see clearly while the surgery is being performed. Fred then hears a booming laugh.
“This is too good Fred. My friends and I are sitting here from afar very entertained, laughing our heads off.”
“I will have the last laugh you bastards. I am too good a person to be nothing more than your entertainment.”
Fred gathers items below the bathroom sink and in the basement that he needs to put a stop to this madness. He then lays face up on the bathroom floor, blood still oozing from his forearm and head, and places the nozzle of the funnel he gathered inside the hole in his forehead. He smiles aware that he will finally destroy the alien electronics inside his head. Grabbing acid with his right hand he slowly pours it into the funnel till everything goes black. The acid eats away at his frontal lobe and the alien circuitry as he is passing out. Fred’s body then begins going into spasms. Blood and a gel like substance begin to seep from his eyeball while he flops uncontrollably around on the floor.
Far above aliens were viewing Fred on their monitor laughing hysterically. Eventually they click the monitor off as Fred’s dead body lay silently on the floor. His death was considered to be the climax of an entire television series that many an alien watched on their home planet. The tabloids later stated that it took some two months before his corpse was found, as he was a very lonely man. Reruns were shown for months, about this very funny occurrence.
Jacob captured the trauma and tragedy of schizophrenia very well in this writing. It is one rendition of what many of us go through. While I experienced different scenarios during my psychosis, the pain involved with the contact that I had with beings on the Other Side was excruciating at times, just like this story portrays. With no where to run, the schizophrenic has no choice but to surrender to these alien beings, or kill himself. In my case, the spirits would not allow me to kill myself, but rather held me at the brink of death, sadistically enjoying my suffering. Somehow, many of us survive to tell our stories and it is important that we are heard.