The Intangible - Pants On Fire

The Intangible is a limited literary audio anthology that explores that corpulent call which we must all one day pierce. We're happy to have you here, and even happier to keep you. Care for a chilled beverage? Please enjoy cracking open a couple

cold ones. The crowd screaming began when we saw the hands, one from each side, thrice the dimensions of the colliding bodies. One hand yanked the moon to the west, the comet was snatched to the east. Both tipped asunder, and molten cores poured into unfathomably large, toothy mars which had appeared. Deep rumbles ensued like monstrous guffaws, flattening trees, sweeping people away in its wake. lifting them hundreds of feet high, then abandoning fleshy bodies to

crash to the earth. Weeks later, they're still here. At night, the sky is dark now. It's only a matter of time before they drink us, too. Oh, no, no, no, no. See, I was just... I wasn't... All right, fine. You caught me. But listen, there's infinite universes out there. Nobody's going to miss just one. It was never Thanksgiving.

Never Christmas that got me. I think because I could see them coming well ahead of time. Years ahead if I wanted. They're like an orbiting comet. You know when to expect them. If you get hit by one, sure, it'll vaporize you. But they aren't scary because you always know where they are. It wasn't the holidays that got me. It's always those days that come out of nowhere, like an extinction -level asteroid. One minute, I'm sleeping

like my bed is in a hypergolic chamber. And the next, I feel like I'm watching what looks like a comet in the sky grow and grow until its light is all I see. And I can hear it ripping the air apart in front of it as it closes in. Then, wham, I'm extinct. Not extinct. Not really. But I've watched the world go around for 1 ,128 days. Staring out through this small window, mostly alone. I have next to no contact with the world outside. Most days, I don't think too much about

it. This is my life. Love it or hate it. And my own choices led me here. No sense in driving myself crazy over some imagined life I could be living instead. I haven't seen or talked to a member of my family since I went away either. 1 ,128 days since I have heard any of their voices. Felt their arms around me. Heard the words, I love you. The holidays I can see coming. It's days like today that are hard. Taken by surprise. Days when the view from this window looks much

less beautiful. Today is the hardest so far. This is the smallest my window has felt since I've been aboard the Scout Class Kestrel Fury. The most alone. I've felt since I left the surface 1 ,128 days ago. There are daily check -ins, of course. Weekly discussions with the psych. Regular meetings with a doctor, a dietician. The cheerleader. He's a pastor and a life coach, but I like my name for him. He laughs and refers to himself that way now, too. And various other

members of the team. business. I've never heard I love you in a meeting with any of them. No. Not a comet. We see those coming. It's the asteroids. Those colossal titans that crash through the great black vacuum, mistling down at you with extinction event speed. So fast you never had a chance to even brace yourself. So fast that when you heard the call come over the comm, you barely reached your space window in time to see

the fiery celeste. Just a speck of white -orange sparkle, the flash of a trace around, but aiming straight for home. Barely fast enough to bear witness. Barely fast enough to look away in time and... Not get yourself blinded. That fast. In the blink of an eye. In the most literal sense of that breeze. And there were no more holidays. We are in extinct. There are still few of us floating around here. It might last another 7 ,300 days. Who knows? Holidays are like comets.

They're just like Earth. Gone. They're all gone and none of them are ever coming back around.

I sit, crouched and hidden among the black shadows, peering around the corner. So far, the two of us have remained peaceful with each other, and I'm comfortable watching him come and go. without being fully out of sight. He is much bigger than I, but not nearly as quick. I've had several run -ins with his type before, and he doesn't scare me. They're all the same. Big and powerful, but clumsy, lumbering and thin -skinned. Also, he doesn't seem to possess a particularly luminous

level of intelligence. Not stupid, but not bright. Any one of our kind could easily outclass him in that department. Every day I watch, and his routine is the same. He fills his bowl, then becomes distracted. He wanders off, occupied by these other matters, and, get this, forgets to eat. He just leaves his rations lying about, unguarded and gone to waste. He doesn't come back for it. nor does he notice when I sneak

in and steal some. I've been here several weeks now, and it's a wonder how he can survive with such a degree of complacency. I'm amazed by the blatant insensibility he displays. Frankly, it disgusts me. But I do enjoy the perks. So far, I don't consider him a serious threat. Based on my observations, he could be dangerous, I suppose. But he appears unlikely to choose violence. If he tries, I'll punish him for it. Still, I

remain cautious. I wait for him to leave so I can steal his food again, but with so little available cover, I'm nervous about walking into the wide open. I'd be too exposed. After the close call yesterday, he almost had me, I confess. I feel a bit skittish. I suppose, in a way, he has me trapped here at the moment, but I can escape at my will. His foolishness has afforded me numerous opportunities to go without alert. Once, he leaned himself against the main door

without realizing it was ajar. He stared at his feet for several moments, unaware of his own self -induced security breach. Pathetic. Yes, I miss my old streets, but my curiosity here has caught hold and kept me. Besides, he's done nothing to threaten my safety. Except for yesterday. There was a minor attack, from which I escaped unharmed. Over his choice of oppression and conflict, he snuck in as I pilfered the rations he'd left lying about. He was stealthy, and I didn't notice

him before he was upon me. I usually fight back. I was prepared to fight back. I always fight back, but this time was different. I'm disturbed. and ashamed that I was caught so unprepared, and I'm ashamed his sorcery worked on me. His paws are enormous, large enough to wrap all the way around me, and when he got hold of me, I froze. The situation worked out, but a life could have been lost if things had gone differently. Even today, I struggle to understand what happened.

What went wrong? Once he had me, though, he didn't attack. Not at first. He held me there for a moment. It gave me time to think. He's so much bigger than me, I figured it was best not to struggle in case it would agitate him. What he did wasn't violent, but it was surely torture. He held me down with one hand. and put his other hand on my neck. Then, when he touched my back, I was inexplicably paralyzed, unexpectedly captured,

and entirely in repose. I had never been confronted with such a maneuver, and I cannot accurately convey the effect it had on me. Everyone knows how much I sleep. Dare say too much. I love to sleep. This. was not sleep. It was as if my body slept, while I remained helpless to its will. I could hear him speaking in his bizarre language while he manipulated my neck and back with repeated motions. I admit this next part not for posterity, but because I am incapable of anything besides

total upfront honesty. The whole truth. or none at all, I always say. So yes, I confess, I enjoyed the sensation, especially when his hand moved from my neck down my back. I stayed vigilant, though, watching for the inevitable opportunity, for my chance to shimmy loose and escape his clutches with a trick the very instant I could. I'm still chuckling over how well my deception worked. As I said, his bizarre trap rendered me nearly helpless, but after some time, my mobility

began to return and I could move again. Not much at first, but some. The technique he used must lose some of its potency after a certain volume of continued exposure. Although I was yet hindered to a degree, I mustered my strength, rolled over, and feigned absolute submission. Presented with my underbelly, the attacker did not cease inflicting his torture, but instead ignored my back and refocused his efforts on the tender front of my torso. I experienced those effects differently

due to his new angle of attack. It wasn't as pleasure - unbearable as the first technique. I felt no need to eliminate this foe, but I needed to escape. I needed to rest and to ponder how he shirked my defenses. So, I lulled him into further complacency with a brief maneuver of my own. I tolerated this new torment while pretending I was feeble to convince him I had finally surrendered. I would never. Then, when I was certain he'd fallen for my ruse, I planned I would astonish

him. My plan was immaculate, of course. When his defenses dipped, I saw my opening and snapped into action. I pounced like one of those feral calicos from the back alleys, a glorious attack. I snared his enormous paw and delivered a ferocious bite to make sure he knew I had got the better of him. He howled in his native tongue. More on that in a moment. And my nasty surprise triggered his nervous system, forcing his knuckles to straighten and lock just like any other simple rodents would.

Finally, his grip relaxed and he released. I was quick and seized the moment. slipped free and retreated to safety. There, I sat and allowed him to amuse me with his grumbling whimpers and owls. He won't be trying that maneuver again. Later, I groomed myself before napping. A last note, it seems I have learned a word of his language. As I launched my devious attack yesterday, he yelled out, Ow, Henry, you stinker! Which I am now quite certain means, please spare my life.

In his dialect. Pathetic. Yes, hi. I mean, I apologize for my momentary outburst earlier. As John Donne once wrote, Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee. Speaking of bells, I believe I hear one right now. Karen tuned out the second

grade girls on the playground. It only took three weeks as an elementary school teacher to learn that ability, and she was going on six years now as Miss Karen. Instead, she focused on her conversation with Melissa, the new TA. I know, can you believe it? She was only 23. We were supposed to go for happy hour this Wednesday. It was a teacher's work day and a half day, so

they planned to leave a little early. Betsy had invited Karen to show the fellas down at Charlie's place what a couple of working gals could do with a stick and some balls on a pool table. After which they both caught the giggles and ended up laughing so hard, both their 7th period classes asked them what was wrong when they saw the smudged makeup on their faces. Melissa nodded sympathetically. She knew Karen and Betsy had been work besties. So kind and sunny. Her parents

must be devastated. The brass bell gave three quick rings to alert the teacher as recess was nearly over. Melissa clapped as she walked the perimeter of the play yard, calling the class to line up. Single file! Single file! Ladies first! Last one in line has desk duty! Most of the class lined up at their designated post, but not the group of girls. They continued their dance, hands clasped, spinning a large circle, six of them all together. They collapsed in a

giggling heap. Melissa smiled to herself, but she knew if she gave the girls an inch, then... Well, she was a little girl once, too. She knew how bad it could get. Clapping louder, she shouted to them, Let's go, girls! Line up, line up, line up! One of the girls, Aubrey, ran over. One more time, Miss Melissa. Please. You can play it with us. We wanted to do one for Miss Betsy. Melissa looked down, and even though she knew Aubrey was putting on her best sad puppy face, it still

worked. If we do one dance together, one, for Miss Betsy, will you tell the others to follow directions so we can line up without any fuss? Yes, Miss Melissa. So, can we? Go ahead, she nodded. I'll be right over. Aubrey dashed back to the group, and they all joined hands, leaving a space right next to Aubrey for Miss Melissa. As Melissa took her place between Cindy and Aubrey,

Aubrey smiled up at her, beaming. Miss Melissa and the group of second grade girls collapsed to the dense autumn grass, all of them giggling. True to her word, Aubrey had told the others, and they obediently lined up and returned to class. Several weeks later, Miss Karen stood at recess with her arms crossed, chatting with the new TA, Annabelle. It's just so weird, first Betsy, then Melissa, Karen shivered. I just don't understand. You look like you aren't sleeping

well. Karen meant it sympathetically, but... Thanks. Karen gave Annabelle a deadpan look, then realized how sharp the word had come out. I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. It's okay. It's not. I'm not, you know. I'm not sleeping well. The group of second grade girls played nearby when the brass bell rang out three quick chirps. Karen began calling the class to line. Let's go, line up, single file, ladies first. Aubrey skipped over and motioned for Annabelle to lean

in, then whispered in her ear. Annabelle glanced over at Karen and mouthed, I'll be right back. Okay, she said to Aubrey. One time, then we line up, okay? Yes, Miss Anna. Thank you. Come on. Aubrey grabbed Miss Anna's hand and skipped back to the circle. Annabelle didn't know why, but the hair on her neck stood at attention when she grasped Cindy's hand next to Aubrey. and began turning a big circle with the girls. Don't you just love children? I prefer mine medium

rare. What's one thing you wish you could say to someone, but you can't because they're gone? Could be a question, apology, and I love you. Anything at all, as long as it's for somebody you knew in life who's gone now. That I had so much to say. Maybe that mostly that they took that for granted, I suppose, or assumed they'd always be there. I assumed they'd always be there, so I didn't say what I could have said when...

I should have said it. Not only is Angels Alive extraordinary elixir, a robust and rotund elixir, it is an excellent, exceptional, efficacious, effectual, potent, powerful, marvelous, magnificent one, and is, as always, an utterly edible, enjoyable, potent, potable, pleasantly piquant and palatable, desirable, delicious, delectable, mouth -watering, and yet... morally respectable elixir of the finest quality of the most refined purity developed under the sharpest eye of scrutiny safely and

scientifically circulated carefully crafted and combined by the bright and the brilliant the astute and acute the clever and keen shaman of the sheik a mystifying medicine man from a mysterious perplexing peculiar part of pa wang located deep deep down in the far southwest of the east for an elixir so unusually useful angel's alive extraordinary elixir is for a time too temporary to tell uncommonly priced every extraordinary bottle of angel's alive extraordinary elixir must go and remember

folks a bottle bought is always a bottle sold blaze peeked his helmet out to see if he could spot the sinister scientist but he only saw endless rows of empty drums Max Ratchet, you're under arrest in the name of the Republic of the New Milky Way. Give up now, and no one gets hurt. The tables have turned, Blaze. You'll never escape the Tinkerbots. I've programmed them all so they only have one goal. Your demise. Max tried to laugh like an evil villain, but ended up choking

and coughing on his own spit instead. Max pushed the thick lenses of his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. Tinkerbots, attack! Blaze saw hundreds of small silver bots with insect -like wings rise up in a swarm from behind a large boxy machine with an opening that looked like a mechanical mouth. He could hear the buzzing sound getting louder and he knew he had to think fast. The space hero looked around the facility

for something, something that might help. To his left, there was only a wall with windows that looked out into the blackness of space. No help there. To the right, there was a conveyor belt that fed the mechanical mouth and some assorted crates and drums for shipping space materials. Still, no help. The buzzing sound got louder, and Blaze knew he needed an escape plan, but he felt so sleepy. He looked up at the ceiling and suddenly had an idea. I'll rest my eyes.

Just, just for a minute. His mom kissed his forehead and tucked him in. Good night, Nathan. Have sweet space dreams. Nathan gave a quiet snore as he rolled to his side and clutched his favorite action figure a little tighter. You've been listening to The Intangible, an audio literature program of weird fiction. This was not a fever dream. Nor was this the seething sea that ceased to sea, then thus sufficeth us. it keeps getting worse till one day you die. Does it get worse

after that? I don't know, kid. I sure hope so.