glow, worm hole. glow.

Rolo says this is 9/9 of 'the blinking lights'. Here are 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
----

There was no one at the road by the Blinking Lights when I passed by, and I
didn't see any lights either.

It was quite chilly, the breeze cutting the crickets' chirping thin. Luckily,
they seemed to be in a good mood tonight - there are, at least, some things in
the universe that no bully can ever spoil for you, and one of them is the
crickets' chirping. It's like the sound of one hand clapping.

There was another commotion at the grocery store. Bluejay was there with some
of his friends, chatting with the owner, Mr. Everidge, as Pretty Rogerson danced
around them excitedly. As I approached, I could see that the young man
previously robbing the store was bent over with his hands behind his back.
Bluejay was manhandling him, while Mr. Everidge tried to stop Bluejay.

"No, no," said Mr. Everidge, "you don't have to take him. It was just a little
thing... no hassle ..."

One of Bluejay's friends roughed the young man some more. "Do you think this is
a joke?" said Bluejay angrily to the owner. Everidge, noticing me, rolled his eyes.
I waved back. "No, not a joke, as such," mumbled Mr. Everidge, "Just ..."

"Look, we can't have crimes occurring and not being addressed," said Bluejay,
giving me a once over, "As it is, we already have enough nuts running loose."

"Could be because of the Blinking Lights ... " mumbled the owner, with his hands
in his pockets. I found this very interesting and leaned against the wall to
hear more. Pretty Rogerson also stopped circling around them to listen.

Bluejay, on the other hand, got very angry. "Again with the damn lights! There
are no lights, damn you, no damn lights!"

Mr. Everidge seemed to take offense to this. "Well, I prefer to, er, take a more
intellectually honest perspective on such things," he mumbled.

This caused Bluejay's eyes to pop open. "Intellectually honest? Intellectually
honest? How can you say that?" Pretty Rogerson had walked off into the store.

"Well, you know - I mean, some of it must be true. I mean, sure, there may be
some made up stuff there, but even if there's, say, one percent of truth there,
it is, you know, worth hearing about..."

They went on about this for some time, but I didn't hear much more about the
Blinking Lights. Pretty Rogerson came out of the store and handed me some
bandaids. "For the wounds," he explained, and I smiled at him and shook his hand.

There wasn't much else to see, so I started back to Arlene's place. I seemed
to be doing pretty well with my breaths - keeping them around 15-16 each minute.
I couldn't wait to tell Rolo about it - and also about the conversation I'd
heard regarding the Blinking Lights. It was, then, only when I neared the road
where the lights were supposed to be that I noticed the crickets had stopped
their chirping. A little puzzled, I looked down the narrow road.

Rolo was standing there, surrounded by the Blinking Lights.

neptune

Rolo says this is 8/9 of 'the blinking lights'. Here are 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
----

"You sure you don't want it?" asked Blue Jean. Her makeup was accentuating the
bags under her eyes in the light of our small fire. The 'bruised and abused
whore' look was cosmetics, but everyone knew, also pretty much the truth. I
smiled and put an arm around her, and this seemed to reduce her rate of
respiration. She wasn't really talking to me - she was talking to allay the
fears of being trashed by Balboa, who bullies everyone on the street, anytime.
Like some 24/7 phone-up abuse line, only real.

But that was okay, because I wasn't really listening to her either. I was
looking at the window into Arlene's place. Rolo was in there rummaging through
her stuff for items to equip us tomorrow night. I could see him burrowing about
in the room, behind Arlene, who stood at the window watching Blue Jean and
myself.

The smack had come as more of a surprise than actual pain. I carefully picked
myself up, because someone's share of sausage was near my foot, and I didn't
want to spoil it for them. However, the next punch rendered me off balance, and
I squished it. Blue Jean was screaming hysterically in the background, and maybe
a reason I kept my eyes closed was to avoid the apparition of her tear streaming
mascara.

I heard Rolo's distinct footsteps, the ones he does when he's running, come down
the stairs Inside. The door slammed open and the next thing I heard was Balboa's
unenthusiastically soft thud, as he crashed into the pavement, damaging one of
the tiles. When I opened my eyes, Rolo was rubbing one fist and consoling Blue
Jean with the other hand. They were looking down at Balboa, who was outcold. I
loved the look that Blue Jean was pouring over Rolo - someone was getting laid
tonight! I smiled, making the blood trickle in a different direction down my
chin.

"Jupiter? Jupe? Are you ok?" Arlene was shaking me at the shoulders. She was
wearing a little red thing, very attractive.

"He doesn't answer to that name any more," said Rolo. "It'll be the Fool who you
must address."

Arlene clicked her tongue and shook me again. "Are you alright?"

I smiled at her and nodded, taking her hand to rise to my feet.

Rolo came to me and handed me his bag of quarters. "You are badly injured," he
said. "Go buy some bandaids at the grocery store."

I nodded to thank him, and took the money. A small commotion had fired up on the
streets because of Balboa, and I waded through it. I was looking forward to some
time alone - Rolo was my best friend and all, but we'd been hanging out together
all day. I wanted to see how well I could count my breaths without him around.

As I walked away, I could hear him calming the people on the street down, and I
could hear Arlene's shrill stare, whose soundwaves bounced off my back.

pearl offal

Rolo says this is 7/9 of 'the blinking lights'. Here are 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
----

A nugget of sizzling sausage landed and started dancing on my lap. I looked up
and Aunty Septic smiled proudly back at me, stirring the pot in her arms.

Aunty Septic had been married to Don Juan Dinero for what may have been even
before Arlene's place had stood on the streets. He had been a wealthy financier,
who Saw the Light, and she a short-order cook who was dazzled by his many
Pearls.

These days, the Don usually made sure everyone was being nice to each other and
renouncing the ways of profit, while Aunty Septic collected the meats and
eatables from here and there to cook for everyone. We tried to keep away from
him, and yet, stay within eating distance from her. But they were inseparable,
probably because of the Pearls.

I smiled at the Aunt, and put the sausage in my mouth. Immediately my hunger was
eliminated and I could only look into her face with pure gratitude. In that
rapture, I noticed she had obtained wound number 87 - a new boil threatening to
burst at any moment. But she was always careful to keep it from falling over the
food, at ANY cost, as witnessed on the night of the Anonymous Flaming Poodle. It
was an horrific incident, with much confusion and flailing about of bodies - and
an annoying sound of yelping. Luckily, no one from the streets was hurt. A few
days later, one of the Insiders - a woman with braided red hair (this is a
crime) and leaflets, had come to ask us about this poodle, but by then, the
sausages had been digested and I, myself, hate poodles anyway. Nevertheless, it
should be noted, everyone who ate that night is still alive and healthy, so
there is something to be said for Aunty Septic's sanitary nature.

glittering glue

Rolo says this is 6/9 of 'the blinking lights'. Here are 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
----

I was panicking when we reached Arlene's place, but I tried to make sure my
breaths were in proper rotation. Something had gone wrong with my steps. It was
the smaller numbers. I always seemed to get those in a mess. I tried to remember
what the numbers were, but the smell of leather cooking sausages broke my train
of thought.

This was Aunty Septic's recipe, well reknowned on the streets. You just roll the
sausages in a leather belt, or handbag, or maybe, a jacket, and you smoke the
sausages within them. One bite could keep your taste buds tingling for a day.
Which was great, because usually, given the number of people who came to
Arlene's place, one bite is all you'd probably get.

We squeezed our way through the shoulders and knees of the others. Rolo told me
where to sit down. "I'm just off to see Arlene about tomorrow night," he said,
winking at me. "Don't you worry - you'll be fine till I get back."

I clasped my bottle of Jolt and nodded. If Rolo said things were going to be ok,
they probably would be. As he walked off, I looked around. The smell of the
leather sausages caught my nose again.

incentives from friends

Rolo says this is 5/9 of 'the blinking lights'. Here are 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
----

Rolo couldn't stop talking about the Blinking Lights on our way to Arlene's
place. "We'll go back there again tomorrow night," he said. "After 11, though,
'cos otherwise you get Bluejay and all those people."

I nodded and counted in negative steps. It was something I'd been practising
since the night Longone Sweetheart chased me with a broom from her Insides. It
was easier to count in negative steps, because, then, things got smaller. For
example, we now only had 512 - 511 - 510 - 508 (we skipped over a dead racoon) -
507 steps to go.

"Don't think it's aliens, though," explained Rolo. I smiled back. "No, not -
aliens," he said, "there wasn't, like, any parting in the skies. It was just
four foot above the ground. Little things." I looked and caught a small grin
on his face. "Playing with me," he smiled. I smiled back. "Just yea high," he
said. "We'll go check up on them tomorrow. Maybe we can get some friends to come
with us."

I let another breath out into the cold air, keeping count. But Rolo was on his
game. "That's thirty-two breaths you let out in the last minute, Fool" he said
to me, frowning. "Try to be a little calmer."

I smiled and made an effort to breathe slower. 304, 213. 102. Fifty-six. Thirty-
two. I looked at Rolo and counted the number of times his head swung back to
glance at the Blinking Lights. Twenty-four.

incentives for friends

Rolo says this is 4/9 of 'the blinking lights'. Here are 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
----

About a block before Arlene's place, there used to be a small stretch of tarmac
on the east side that tapered off after a couple hundred meters. Some say that
this was where Mr. Hong's raw fish bar used to stand, before the accursed
incident with the ritalin and the match-box boy.

Rolo stopped at the tapering road and looked into the empty overgrowth that
sprawled there now. "You ever heard of the Blinking Lights, Fool?" he asked. His
voice had taken on a silent, hoarse streak.

I joined him by the road and shrugged, sipping some of my Jolt. "One night,"
said Rolo, "I was running down this street to deliver some emergency makeup to
Pretty Rogerson, and I stumbled upon this here branch..." He kicked at a lone
branch, which sprang back. It was attached to some of the undergrowth.

"When I looked up, there were the Blinking Lights. Shimmering, just four feet
above the ground." Rolo pulled his coat closer to him and let out a little
shiver. "It was like ... like they could see me. The Lights, I mean. They were
playing around over there, and putting on a show for me."

I looked at him, raising an eyebrow, and smiled. "There was green one, and a
white one. And somewhere in the back, I could see a red one, but that was kinda
hiding away. Lurking."

We both looked down the tapering road. Rolo found some gravel to scratch his
foot on. "It's because of all the ... gasses," he said. "They react during the
tectonic shifts, which are very special down this road, and release the Lights."

An owl took off from a tree, and in the distance you could hear the waters of
the hydroelectric dam rushing across the Canals. "Anyway," said Rolo, taking my
hand and leading me away, "We'll come by again tomorrow night. I think the
Blinking Lights will be there. I want to see if I can catch one. Anyway, let's
see who is at Arlene's place, anyway," he said.

sparkle

Rolo says this is 3/9 of 'the blinking lights'. Here are 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
----

"I made thirteen, Fool," boasted Rolo as we rounded the corner before the gas
station. I smiled and nodded - he had, indeed, made thirteen breaths in the last
few moments. I pointed at the bag of quarters, which was showing an edge from
his overcoat, and he quickly covered it up to keep it snug.

We decided to chat with Pretty Rogerson, who waits outside the gas station,
before stepping in. It's always a good idea to learn what the latest goings on
are before getting yourself into any messes. Rogerson told us that a robbery was
currently under progress inside, and that we should hurry if we wanted to get
some soda for free.

We thanked him and walked into the gas station store. A young boy, probably
around 17 or so, was nervously waving a gun at Mr. Everidge's face. I smiled and
waved at the couple, and Rolo walked up to the refrigerator. He got my Jolt, and
an orange drink for himself.

"What the fuck is this?" said the boy, shaking his gun at Mr. Everidge.

"Oh, just harmless, just harmless," he replied. "They won't bother you."

"They're walking out without paying!" exclaimed the youth. His mouth was wide
open. "They're not paying!"

I waved goodbye and snuck a candy bar in my pocket as we walked out. "Ah,
sometimes they pay, sometimes they don't pay," I heard Mr. Everidge explain to
the thief. "I don't get too worked up about it."

I gave the candy bar to Pretty Rogerson for helping us out. It's good to provide
incentives to your friends. That way, they help you out in return. I also warned
him that a cold front was coming in, and he should perhaps not wear such a short
skirt. Pretty nodded while opening the candy wrapper, but I don't think he took
my advice to heart.

"Let's go see what Arlene is up to, Fool," said Rolo. We marched into the street
towards Arlene's place.

shiney shiney

Rolo says this is 2/9 of 'the blinking lights'. Here are 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
----

Noseful Reggie was reading a paper when we walked up. The cool thing about Reg,
and how he got his name, was that he always wore a bright red clown's nose. That
was all he wore, too. They had tried to force him to put some pants on once (I
believe Bluejay was involved), but Reg had sold them by the afternoon at
Arlene's place.

"Got some gasses" said Rolo, handing the bottle to him. Reg took it and peered
inside. He peeled the Jolt label off to get a better look, and said "How many
are there in here?"

"Three or four," said Rolo. "Will you take it off us?"

"Of course, of course," said Reg, setting the bottle down. He did a quick
shifting of hands and some quarters appeared in his palms. This was how he
always paid you. With a little magic trick. Since Noseful Reggie never wore any
clothes (well, besides his red nose), you never knew where he kept his money.
And you didn't ask. Rolo opened a sterile ziploc bag, and Reg dropped the
quarters in.

"Got an elderly chap who will take this off me tomorrow," said Reggie,
indicating the bottle with his foot. "Prolly get a good price. Businessman
type." We knew he was lying. Noseful Reggie was kind of like the 'bank' of the
streets. People came over to give him things for safekeeping, and he would give
them some money. You couldn't count all the old shoeboxes, soda cans and even
some fine china that he had in his horde.

Rolo nodded at Reg and then turned to me. "Come on, Fool. Let's go to the gas
station."

I waved goodbye to Reg. It was a rather crisp night, and we counted our breaths
in the air as we walked down the street. Rolo held the bag of quarters close to
him, stroking them from time to time to keep them safe from the cold.

the blinking lights

Rolo says this is 1/9 of 'the blinking lights'. Here are 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
----

I was checking for the gasses on the street with Rolo, when Bluejay came up to
chat. I sipped my Jolt pensively, staring at the cracks in the ground. Rolo was
on his belly, examining.

"What's happening here?" asked Bluejay, "What are you doing?"

"Gasses," said Rolo, waving his arms wildly. "They're ... everywhere."

"Gasses?" asked Bluejay, slowly pulling his notebook out of his back pocket.

"Yeah, we have to check for them," said Rolo. "Fool, give me that screwdriver."

I handed the screwdriver to Rolo, and then smiled at Bluejay. He didn't look
very pleased, like, perhaps, he had bad gas.

"It's very late. You should clear out of here," said Bluejay.

I looked down at Rolo, who was clearing something out of a crack with the
screwdriver. He ignored Bluejay, and I could tell that the man was getting very
displeased.

"You have to just - scrape it out like that, and ..." muttered Rolo to himself.
"Pliers?" he said, reaching his hand out at me.

I took a sip of my Jolt and handed him the pliers. Rolo muttered on about how
many gasses there were in the street tonight.

"Fucking nutjobs," said Bluejay, walking away. He was shaking his head in
disgust, and didn't return my goodbye wave.

"Fool," said Rolo, looking up at me. "Get down here, check it out."

We both caught some of the gasses and put them in my Jolt bottle, which I then
sealed with some sticky tape I'd found at Arlene's, so that I wouldn't forget
and accidentally sip them.

We gathered our tools and walked carefully down towards Noseful Reggie's spot
to show him what the gasses were like. Hopefully he would buy them from us, and
we would then exercise our rights as good capitalist citizens by putting the
cash into the economy, and getting me some more Jolt.