Thursday, March 01, 2007

The Zees

They come in clouds, in the late afternoon and after dinner. Rotund with plump bellies and contented smiles, they float gently through the late sunshine coming through the windows. They tiptoe into offices, school buildings and nurseries with nursing toddlers and infants. They are the Zees.

As they float along the lazy afternoon breezes, they have one mission in mind. The Zees are innately curious about humans, you see. They are fascinated by our every move and what we do during our daily lives. At birth, they select a human to attach to, and visit them every day.

They set the scene by starting a symphony of droning silence. The white noise, whether caused by droning computers, monotone teachers or the humming of an air conditioner sets the scene. Your eyes begin to droop, your breathing slows. The pencil you're clutching begins to run off the paper, the computer in front of your eyes blurs into white. The Zees have come to visit.

They settle into your eye lids, using your eyelashes as an ottoman. The heat from their plush bodies drives you deeper into your sleep. Your conscious fights, recognizing the Zees and shouting, "Not again! We must fight! We must fight! We must fight...wemustfight...wemustfight...wemustfigh....". The battle has been won. The Zees sit comfortably as your head hits the desk. As you sleep, they braid your hair and turn on a hose in your throat so drool comes pouring out of your mouth. Fascinated, they listen to the teacher or run across the computer keyboard. They want to write a sonnet for you, but aren't quite sure what the letters mean. The Zees love to tickle your nose with feathers, just to hear you snort. It makes them giggle.

After an half an hour, before the angry boss or disgruntled teacher raps on your desk, they wake you gently. They tug on your fingers to tickle your nerves and gently push your eye lids open. Just in time, you awake. It takes awhile before you quit feeling that you've been drowning.

As the Zees float back into the breeze, they wave good bye. They'll be back, don't worry. They'll come to visit after dinner, to dance on your full tummy.