Jules

by Richard D. Brown

  - Breakfast. Time: 11:00 a.m. Food: Bacon and Eggs with two slices of unbuttered toast and a cup of coffee

  - Mid-morning walk while listening to music

  - Come back home at around 12:00 p.m. and write for an hour

  - Afterwards, at around 1:00 p.m. Play video games for one-to-two hours.

  - 3:00 p.m. Exercise for twenty minutes

  - 3:20 p.m. Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich – allowing time for it to digest

  - 4:00 p.m. Take DMT

  - 4:30 p.m. Write

  - 6:00 p.m. Dinner

  - Between 6:30 p.m. and 7:00, go to bed.

  Surprisingly, he does a good job at sticking to his schedule. The difference being having only played an hour of video games instead of two. This is where he, Jules, chooses to fill the time between that and exercise with some more writing. Instead of his typewriter, he uses his notebook to free write. He doesn’t come up with anything particularly good, but he enjoys the process. The feeling at his fingertips as he writes with the pencil. Hyper-focusing on each letter he writes down. All of it is a meditative process for him.

  However, as he’s doing this, he begins to notice that he’s growing more tired with each passing minute. Now faced with the dilemma of either working more or taking a nap, Jules becomes overwhelmed with panic as he struggles to decide. He reasons with himself by pointing out that he’s only free writing, so it doesn’t matter as much if he stops. Still, he’s enjoying it too much to want to stop, so he continues. His writing suffers greatly from this decision, however.

  And as he keeps writing, he grows increasingly more tired. To the point where he falls asleep mid-sentence, his words becoming jumbled – looking like an incoherent mess.

  {….and the big, green blob attack the old lady as she tr~~~}

  An hour later, Jules wakes up. It is now 3:00 p.m. which, according to his schedule, means it’s time for some light exercise. He starts with push-ups and sit-ups before grabbing his twenty-five-pound dumbbells. Jules’ body isn’t all that appealing to look at. It’s a bit flabby and soft, lacking in the definition he so often strives for. But he continues to trust in process. Anyways, he finishes up and crosses it off his list. Before continuing onward as scheduled.

  3:00 p.m. Exercise for twenty minutes

  Chapter Seven

  Now Jules has made his way into the kitchen where he’s making a Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich. It is a beautiful looking sandwich, with the proportions of the peanut butter and the jelly evenly spread out across the two slices of wheat bread. After slowly eating, savoring every bite, he decides to scroll through social media as he allows the food to digest. He stumbles across a news article from a credible source. The article is explaining how a Local has recently noticed a U.F.O. in the sky above. Jules’ eyes widen as he thinks back to his alien encounters. Which, he believes, may have something to do with it. But then, he quickly shrugs off the idea. “Best not to get into my own head right before my trip.” He tells himself while he closes the app. He puts his phone and grabs the DMT, lights up, and gets blasted off into worlds unknown. Where he’s greeted by the aliens again. They have an immediate message for him.

  [Fun?

  Fun no more.

  Evil…

  No,

  Curious.

  Yes, curious.

  Coming, we are.

  Do not hate us

  Please.]

  This time, Jules tries to communicate back with the aliens. “Buh-buh. Blrggh! Blah.” It comes off as gibberish at first. Jules begins to think that his efforts are to go to waste, believing that his desire to communicate is impossible. But he keeps trying. “Blah. Yick. E-uh…” he takes a heavy breath in, concentrating harder this time, “I saw on the news that there was a U.F.O. sighting,” he’s finally able to get out, “Do you guys have anything to do with that?” He lets out a big breath. Beginning to feel light-headed, he sits down. It took a lot out of him.

  [Did we?

  Yes.

  Experimental reasons.

  No harm,

  Trust.]

  The aliens respond.

  “And what about the other ones? The other aliens I talked to. The creepy ones. Do they have access to the same technology as you?” Jules asks, the talking has come easier this time around; there’s concern in his voice. And although the other race does have access to the same technology, this race is hesitant to tell Jules the truth. So, they lie. Telling him instead that…

  [No,

  We good.

  They…

  Bad they are.

  Trust.]

  “Okay,” is all that Jules is able to get out before being blasted back to his apartment, coming to on his bathroom floor. Sitting in front of his toilet where there’s some vomit inside. Unnatural as it is to have puked during his trip, Jules has too much on his mind to really care right now. So, he just ignores it.

  Chapter Eight

  After a minute or two of processing what just happened, he calls Evelyn. She answers. “Evelyn! Evelyn!” He sounds frenzied. “Yeah, bro. What’s up?” She responds. “Did you see the news recently?” Jules asks, “More specifically, did you see that article online about those U.F.O. sightings?” “Yeah, I did. What about them? Is everything okay?” “Well, I just spoke to some aliens—” “You spoke to aliens!?” Evelyn interrupts. “Yes, Evey. I spoke to some aliens and, well… They said they are good and that they’re behind this. At least, that’s what I was able to decipher. They sort of spoke in tongues.”

  Evelyn sounds busy on the other side. “Evelyn? You there?” Jules asks. “Yeah, bro. I’m here. Let me ask you this… Are you high?” “Yeah, sort of. But…” “Dude, I thought you were gonna stop with that shit.” “Yes, but…” “Whatever, dude. Those U.F.O. sighting were never properly identified anyway. Call me when you’re sober.” She hangs up the phone. “Evelyn, no.” Jules tries, “You there?” He asks. There’s no answer. “Dammit.” He says before putting the phone down.

  Later that night, after writing (and sleeping) some more, Jules calls up David. “Hey man, when you get this, call me back. It’s Jules and I’ve got some pretty big news. It’s about those U.F.O. sightings, okay? Bye.” Jules leaves a voicemail in David’s inbox and gets back to writing.

  {There is an incoming attack

  Of the friendliest bunch

  Yet, no one is believing me

  When I say that this is real.

  Aliens.

  They are coming.

  I know this from visions

  I have had

  During my more lucid states.

  Not bad,

  Only the good ones

  Are coming here.

  At least,

  That’s what I was told.

  Curious intellectuals, they are.

  I am anticipating their arrival

  Because then

  Everyone will see

  That I was right.}

  As soon as he finishes, David calls back. “Hey, man… You alright? That voicemail you left, it sounded… odd.” “Yeah, hey. I’m doing great! Just got done writing a poem. Preparing for the onslaught.” “What do you mean onslaught?” David questions. “Aliens are coming, man.” Jules responds, “I saw it in a vision.” “Aliens? Well, I’ll be… That’s crazy!” David responds in disbelief. “When are they coming?” He asks. “I’m not sure, man…” Jules replies, “But it’s going to be sooner rather than later. Have you seen the news lately? All those U.F.O. sightings?” “No, not really. Been busy avoiding the news, to be honest. It, uh, gives me anxiety.” “Oh, well… There’s been some U.F.O. sightings and I’ve been having these visions of aliens. So, that’s why I’m thinking an invasion is going to happen.” “Couldn’t it be in your head though, Jules?” “I guess so, but I’ve got a strong feeling that it isn’t.” “Okay, well… I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Just keep me updated.” David tells Jules with a firmness in his voice. “Will do,” Jules responds. David goes to end the conver
sation with a, “Talk to you later, man.” And Jules replies by simply saying, “Bye.”

  Chapter Nine

  It’s the next day and Jules is out shopping for supplies that will help him to better communicate with the aliens for when they arrive. He has taken the week off of work as he hopes that the U.F.O. sightings become more interesting. With, perhaps, news of an actual alien sighting making waves. His purchases include a bit of tin foil, a video camera, a telescope, and some healthy snacks (like whole grain bars and whatnot). The tin foil is used to block out radiation, whereas the video camera and telescope are used as documentation devices, and the healthy snacks are just so Jules has some food to eat for the next couple of weeks.

  While he waits, Jules spends the next few days in his room. He uses this time to write, sleep, and/or eat. He chooses to start compiling some poems for his new book that currently remains as the “Untitled Jules Project.” Between writing, Jules will occasionally take breaks to browse through social media. Staying up to date on the U.F.O. sightings.

  It proves to be a rather boring time in Jules’ life. With him producing a handful of bad poems while wasting away in his bedroom. Poems like:

  {I am angry

  As there are far better ways

  To waste this precious life of mine.}

  OR

  {This is a poem

  Hear it roar}

  However, it seems that one out of every five poems are a success. Like this one, for example:

  {Thoughts are scattered within

  They are loud.

  Screaming!

  I fear I may be going insane.

  Worse,

  I fear I may be wrong.}

  OR

  {This emptiness I feel

  Is starving me.

  It is sad to know

  That something that was once whole

  Can become shattered

  By the littlest thoughts.

  What if it’s all false

  And I’m dreaming…

  Afraid to wake up

  From this Godly slumber.}

  Chapter Ten

  Six days in of waiting for aliens and writing, Jules has grown incredibly bored of the same old routine day-in and day-out. So, he decides to mix it up a little by taking a hit or two of DMT. Once again, he is blasted to some far-off dimension. This time, he talks to the other race – the bad race. They explain to him that he was lied to. Telling him that they do, indeed, have the same technology as the so-called “good” aliens. His trip is cut short as he then awakens in his bedroom. He waits until the next day, the seventh day, to smoke some more DMT; hoping, this time, to talk to the good aliens.

  Thankfully, his wish comes true as the good aliens appear five minutes after his inhale. As they’re boarding their ship, they explain to him that…

  [Yes,

  We are guilty liars

  But we were only trying to protect you.

  To protect

  Your sanity.

  Please,

  Forgive us.]

  They then go on to explain further after Jules asks, “Ok, then. What’s next?”

  [We come.

  They come.

  You stay.

  You go.

  Our priority is research.

  Theirs?

  Who’s to say…

  Best to leave.

  Safer that way.

  Trust.]

  Finally, they take off. Leaving Jules to explore this odd, geometric world alone.

  It has been a while since his trips isolated like this. Consisting of basic geometry. He admires the simplicity that he’s been left with. Yet, once he starts to get into a groove, he is awoken suddenly; now back in his bedroom on his shitty mattress that lays upon the floor. He’s tempted to smoke some more, wanting to go back to that serene place, but realizes he’s getting low on supply and resists.

  “So,” he thinks to himself, “aliens are coming and I don’t think anybody believes me.” He stands up and lets out a slow, guttural “fuuuuuuccccckkkk” as he stretches. He then starts to pace around the room as he brainstorms some sort of plan. “What to do? What to do?” He asks himself, sounding scared.

  After twenty minutes or so of deep, excruciating thought Jules decides what he needs is some marijuana to help him mellow out. So, he goes to smoke some weed which motivates him to write.

  {Wiggin’

  I am.

  So much

  Is happening around me

  It is like

  My head

  Is in

  The clouds

  And

  I do not

  Know

  How to

  Come down.

  Fearing for the lives

  Of those around me

  Of those I love.

  Fearing for my own life,

  Too.

  Unsure

  What to do.}

  After writing, he turns on some music and stares at the empty ceiling above. He begins mathing out what to do, realizing that the weed did not help. That it’s only making him more anxious. Feeling trapped, he goes outside for a run. And boy, does he run! Fast, too. Going down a path that would normally take thirty minutes (while walking) and finishing it within fifteen minutes. Once he finishes and gets home, he takes a cold, refreshing shower, dries off, and writes some more.

  {Feeling a bit more relaxed

  Having given myself

  A mini heart-attack

  From cold showers

  And great speeds.

  Still feeling as lost as ever

  About the going-ons around me

  As I’m starting to doubt

  The legitimacy of it.

  Aliens.

  It sounds crazy

  And I’m beginning to fall victim

  To disbelief.

  But I remain strong in my knowledge

  That they are to come

  And destroy.

  I just hope

  That

  The damage isn’t too severe.}

  After finishing, he titles it “Off my Rocker” and puts it in the book pile with the others. And then he sleeps.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jules wakes up the next morning and feels compelled to, immediately, turn on the news. One of the headlining stories is about more U.F.O. sightings. While the anchor explains that the number of sightings has seemed to multiply overnight, Jules sends a group text to Evelyn and David. The text reads, “Quick! Turn on the news! U.F.O. sightings. More of them.” As he awaits a response from either David and/or Evelyn, he continues to listen closely to the news anchor on the television.

  “Multiple U.F.O. sightings!” The anchor exclaims. “The U.F.O.s seem to be trying to communicate via chem trails,” they go on to explain; cutting to a video of a nondescript flying object making a strange, mostly foreign image with its chem trail. As they’re showing this, David texts back, “Damn. Well I’ll be!” Evelyn soon follows, “Maybe you were right, lil bro. Sorry.” And the conversation ends there.

  Later in the day, Evelyn calls Jules; asking, “Well, hello there… An alien invasion. What’s your plan, lil bro?” To which Jules responds, “I have no idea. I mean, I’ve been thinking. Trying to come up with something. But I don’t know.” “Are they good aliens?” Evelyn questions. “The first batch are supposedly good, yes. The second batch, I believe, are bad. Or, y’know… That’s what they told me.”

  “Oh, okay. So, you’ve talked to them before then?” “Yes.” “Well… What were they like!?” Evelyn now sounds excited to learn more. Jules then dives into a deep monologue, “The good ones were more confident and friendly. They chanted about being happy a lot. They seemed to be well-meaning. Whereas the bad ones were a bit more hunched over, and their speech was more direct. They seemed to be a more tyrannical force. And I, like a dick, just associated good and bad based on appearance. What if they’re all bad. Evelyn, I’m scared.”

  They continue to talk for a little bit longer before en
ding the conversation. It is after the conversation ends that Jules considers taking some more DMT. But, in the end, decides that it’s better to wait until tomorrow. And, so, instead, he goes on to do some light housework for the day and just relax. Afterwards, as he is relaxing and enjoying his day off work, he goes to write a quick poem to pass the time.

  {Roses are red

  Violets are blue

  What a cliched beginning

  But it doesn’t change

  How I feel about you.

  You are a star

  You shine bright

  If I ever get in a fight

  I know you won’t be far,

  You’ll help me win.

  You are my worst enemy

  But my greatest friend.

  I am glad you exist

  And I hope this relationship we have

  Never ends.

  Lasting us

  Even in death.

  Perhaps that is hopeful thinking

  But that is how I feel

  I love you –

  Myself –

  You are really cool.}

  Sure, the poem comes off as narcissistic. But it’s his day off and he needed to hear the words of which he wrote. After getting finished with the writing, he begins to notice that it has gotten dark out. So, he makes himself some Noodles for dinner and then goes to sleep.