silly talkers

(this was actually written october last year, and i always thought it didn't make very good sense at times and that's what i liked about it. maybe i can develop it some time.)


and then the silly talkers jumped ship. they got the hell outta there. no one saw them leave the building. they gently traipsed over emptied bodies and broken glass, then leapt from the tops of things to the bottoms of things.
they were very discreet. the only sound the pitter-patter of feet.
the current leader of the silly-talkers was a human undercover spy. he was granted this position mainly because he spoke the silliest-less. he kept the key to his life with the secret that he possessed no power at all to lead them, and he decided to always choose randomly. whatever the situation, it did not matter. he was able to survive this way; why and for how long, he did not know.
so in short, they had a direction – but no sense of direction. they were careening through life and everything faster than something you can’t even imagine.

opening doors and scrambling down emptied passageways, they looked for an exit.

“Exit!” screeched one of them. but it was never that simple. the same one continued, “we can exit everywhere, but never escape.” and then laughed manically. the others pondered quietly. like wallace stevens, the silly talkers behold nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
they decided to tackle the one with ideas. besides, the more ideas one has, the less likely one is to act on them. the mind just masturbates through the infinite possibilities and you’re just as impotent as the rest of them. like when a senile smiling old lady tells you a joke[1] in kindness, but you aren’t sure if it’s genuine or she simply has nothing in her life but you for one instant, and that is the ultimate truth she has chosen to reveal to you.
ask yourself, “what?” and hold on to a second.
intermission –
passed a man today who is always smoking a pipe outside on the veranda, cradling his life away in his rocking chair. end transmission.

anyways, the simply adorable silly talkers had this nasty habit of ‘overthought’… such a shameful thing to be cursed with sometimes. don’t you think? well the silly talkers came together to chew their way through human society with their gift of overthought. why you ask? for the Underground. “the Underground?” you say? what is it?
…
just imagine it. create it and then forget it for your life.

…
you lazy bastard.
the way i see it in my loony bin, is that the silly talkers came from an entire society of living things that has been thriving under your feet for millennia. the world that exists is only the one you see with eyes wide open.
the silly talkers loved having tea-parties and discussing the wonders of humankind. they often wondered, out of the many possibilities, how exactly the most unique species, the one they always knew had the most potential (suppose it turned out equally for good and bad), would constantly tease themselves with total destruction of their physical existence. one big-ass flood was the going opinion. it happened once before, but the silly talkers decided to change their ways this time around and drown the animals rather than saving them from the water. but really, as the silly talkers often reflected with universe-pride, natural disaster was the most poetic way to go down the drainpipe of existence.
the silly talkers maintained existence by dining on human brain (they found the cerebellum was the real treat, it was often divided up amongst the littlest silly-talkers to share). the human was full of poetic irony. the human type often went outside and stared back at the stars that projected their lives back to the planet, and one of these humans desperately avoided stepping on ants in the twilight. her name was, unfortunately, unknown to us. it came from a bizarre mixture of backgrounds, and was thus unpronounceable or even translatable into the alphabet.
the modest ones were forgotten and the insane ones were remembered. they did the same things day in day out. they claimed not to be scared of other planets, but they were terrified of something invisible they celebrated on the same night every earth-year. constantly scurrying about, coming and going, taking their baggage with them: that was humanity. and the silly talkers, unlike humanity, were brutally honest.

reeling from mind-jump, the silly talkers picked themselves up and dusted off the sleep from their eyes.
with emptied conscience they scanned for a target.
“let’s cross a desert!” yelled the smallest one, who bolted across a perfectly flat black surface, with colourful metal strewn across it in neat, pretty rows divided by lines.
“i’ll never understand why they keep building deserts.” whispered one of them. i’d tell you which one, but they whispered. oh, i forgot – silly talkers are tone-deaf. silly talkers led lives which strongly resemble a rambling hoard of barbaric philosophers. constantly forging ahead disputing what they had been taught, was the pursuit of the most brilliant humans. funny, they called themselves philosophers too. the silly talkers rushed to new heights, carrying their zealous prejudice against sense talkers with merciless vengeance…

the silly talkers went through some revolving doors.
“hey! you need a pass to go there. ugh… what the hell are you made of?”

the fattest silly talker then put his Noise-Hole Sucker 3000™ right through the noise-hole on the security man’s face on “high”. the man’s eyeballs flew across the floor into a man’s yawning mouth entering the building.
just kidding. but it was pretty sweet, even by silly-talker standards. the fat one exclaimed with delight: “opened up the other doors in their foreign language in a ham and cheese sandwich they levelled off the bloody cloth they tried to hide their selves inside the shelves that decide their every move to fling themselves into the abyss of meaning!”

the human collapsed on the floor in a mess of neurons and bloody body parts.
“NEXT!” screeched the little one. the blind guide restrained him with a leash.

[1] an old lady approaches and stares into your soul with a cute, buck-toothed, goofy grin:
– What did the cat eat for breakfast?
– I don’t know, what?
–“Mice-Krispies!”
*maniacal laughter for an instant, and then her eyes faced ahead with intensity. She plodded on with brief little baby-steps.