Two young boys were alone on the subway. One was five, the other was six. They had no parents. They had been riding the train for days. I figured they had been born from the belly of an egg or maybe they hatched. Regardless, the egg was the unique factoid in their birth. Everyday Yeah said he saw them at a nice restaurant downtown.
“Am I mistaken, could it be that they are not really boys at all, but actually midgets?” I asked.
“No,” he said, “They are boys of five and six. They are no older at five and six than you and I were at age five or six.”
“So why are they capable of so much more?”
“They’re just better off than most of us.”
“Financially?”
“In general.”
I was going to ask what happened to their parents, but I was afraid Everyday Yeah would tell me they left the nest at age three and flew towards the sun.

I came home and found Everyday Yeah asleep on the couch wearing a face mask. I lightly tapped him on the shoulder.
“Quit it man. There’s no need for rough housing at this hour,” he said and rolled over and went back to sleep.
“What’s with the mask?” I asked.
“Toxins and death are everywhere,” said Everyday Yeah. He didn’t wake again until sometime in the early morning when he apparently sat up in bed and said, “The girl in red woke me up. I know she’s here. I’m going to get her.” The only reason I know this is because the next morning at breakfast he asked if I saw the girl in red last night. I didn’t think we knew any girls in red. We know a few in blue and one in both green and orange, but that’s the extent of relationship with girls. The face mask was gone. I didn’t ask him about it. It wouldn’t return. We spent the day looking for a girl in red, but we didn’t approach any that we found. They were either unapproachable or not worth it.

I forgot my age a few weeks ago.
“How old am I?” I asked.
“Age is a delusion,” said Everyday Yeah, “I came into this world fresh after nine months in a womb like the rest of the world.”
“I can’t remember if I am twenty-three or twenty-four.”
“Tell people you’re eighteen and do the last five years of your life over.”
“A nice woman asked me how old I was in the grocery store today. I was holding a chicken breast and was standing in the dairy section. I was a forgetful oak standing amongst a thousand young Christmas trees.”
“If I did high school again I would have alter egos. One of them would be a clown who runs down the hallways with a bullhorn everyday during 3rd period.”
Later, I would remember that I am twenty-three. Everyday Yeah was still deciding on whether or not he would go back to high school. In his mind, the worst that could happen was that he would lose his virginity again and a couple years at the end of his life would be axed off.

There were a few hundred oysters left in our apartment when Everyday Yeah and I moved. We were unsure where they came from.
“I think I remember a night of fishing and caroling in the bay,” I said.
“No, that is not the answer,” said Everyday Yeah.
I think he was right. The only time we went out in the bay was when we took the row boat and a few sailors directed us to all the islands in the bay. Carroling may have taken place, but I remember oysters were impossible because both sailors were allergic to shellfish.
“We may have gotten them in that package we found on our doorstep a few weeks back,” I said.
“No, we ate everything in that package.”
“I believe you are right.”
The mystery remained. We decided to leave half of them next to a sewer drain and the other half we flushed down the toilet. We were unsure if this was a humane disposal so we kept one and mounted it on a plaque. Later, Everyday Yeah would tell me he had a dream that the oysters came from a box of rigatoni pasta. In the dream he cooked the pasta in a pot and when it was finished he checked the pot and it was filled with oysters.

Everyday Yeah and I were sharing a bench with a little Asian girl. She was eating banana bread and a boy named Curtis was talking in my right ear. No one else hears him.
“Look at her little white slippers,” said Everyday Yeah.
“What about them?”
“Remember them.”
“What for?”
“Remember them and stuff them in a tiny cabinet. Put them in a little jar in the back filled with buttons and thimbles. And in a few years when you’re lonely then you can open up the cabinet and bring the slippers out. Smell them and the scent should bring back the small Asian girl. If it’s your thing you can mentally fuck the slippers. Half the children I have in this world are the result of mentally fucking odd trinkets from my past. I got twins from when I thought of a baby rattler I saw fall and break on the subway. I have retarded children born from the decomposing memories of the thousands of banana peels I’ve remembered from different places in this world.”
“Do you have any children born from the hips of woman.”
“I doubt it; I’m a virgin.”
“Oh.”
“Real children are expensive, dirty and a depressing object for a young, single male to have around.”

“Mommy, are we moving?” asked the little girl in the doorway. “You don’t live here,” said Everyday Yeah. The little girl ran away and a few seconds later we saw her run into traffic, but it was late and there were no automobiles in use.
“I wonder where she came from,” I said. A U-haul truck I didn’t notice earlier turned on its lights and drove down the street after the little girl. I imagined there were cannibals inside or at the very least it could be an army of homeless vampires who are tired of eating the blood of rats and getting back into the human game. I almost wanted to chase down the girl myself and keep her safe in a tree house built on the top of a lamp post.
“I’d like to say that girl was from the future,” I said, “Because I have a feeling that one day I will father a child like that.”
“The future took place a few years ago with me and the girl’s mother,” said Everyday Yeah. “She is one of the thousand children I’ve birthed from my homemade womb.”

Harold was minding his own business. He had a loud mouth maybe, but other than that he was shiny apple not bothering the batch. Tiny microorganisms were on the prowl and were offering candies to anyone who wanted them. I’m not sure what kind they were, but it was a kind you were willing to try at least once. Harold ate five and then he said he had to go and flew home. Harold in the sky with candies, his stomach felt like a galvanized can of beans. The tiny micros threw a line on Harold’s tail and followed him to his sky with candies. “We’ve got him now,” they said and soon Harold began coughing and the candies in the sky weren’t as glorious. One of the micros said he was going to eat the gull’s eyes first. Another one, a tiny female micro, said she was going to work on the bird’s tongue. “My wings,” thought Harold, “Are like dollar bills.” And then they stopped flapping and fell. The micros cheered and Harold now realized he shouldn’t have eaten the candy. A bus driver checked the weather out his windshield and saw Harold falling. “Flap your wings you damn bird,” he said. And Harold died. The micros were soon feasting. Everyday Yeah was waiting for the bus a few days later and found a one eyed gull.

Everyday Yeah and I dug a hole for twelve straight hours. We did it to make some money, but we made very little. The hole only had to be six feet deep, but we had to keep making it wider and not stop until the twelve hours were over.
Everyday Yeah drove us home when the day was done. I sat in the passenger’s seat nodding off. I couldn’t help it. It had been a long day.
When the car came to a stop I woke up. I thought we were home, but we had just pulled over to the side of the road. He was staring at me.
“We had a big day, huh?” he finally said.
“Big one,” I said.
He paused for a second. “Sorry,” he said and began to drive off. A few more moments disappeared. “You know, you’re beautiful when you sleep,” he said.
I was already nodding off again.

“Let’s go for a walk,” said Everyday Yeah.
“You mean just go outside and go from one place and then to another and then maybe a third place or a fourth before we come back here with nothing accomplished, but for some reason we feel like something has been accomplished because all of a sudden thirty minutes are gone from our life,” I said.
“No man, just a walk.”
“To get exercise?”
“Not really.”
“Wait, do you have something on your mind that you want to talk about because we don’t have to leave. We can just stay here and I can make some soup.”
“No, it’s nothing like that.”
“Are you sure because if it is one of those things where you have something to say, but are afraid to say it because you don’t want to offend me or because the content is hurtful, I don’t mind, just spit it out, but if it’s a case where you don’t want me in the kitchen around sharp knives because of the content of what you’re going to say may cause me to react violently then I suggest we talk it over while shooting some hoops in the driveway.”
“No. I have nothing to get off my chest.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
You just want to got for a walk?”
“Yeah.”

The guy said he’d give said us the mattress if we chose a lamp to go with it. The man had a dozen lamps, but they were all ugly. Neither Everyday Yeah nor I wanted any of the lamps, but the bed was a good fit so we took the lamp that looked like a flamingo with a whale harpoon through its head. Everyday Yeah thought maybe we’d keep the flamingo in the closet and bring it out on Thanksgiving. I thought we could put it on the roof. Our hair was very long at this point. We discussed the placement of the bird all night. It was already too late to go to bed. We didn’t even use the mattress that first night. The barber shop opened at seven. We brought the flamingo along and hoped they would take it as payment. They didn’t. Our hair remained long. We thought maybe the salon across the street would take the flamingo. They weren’t open yet. This was disappointing. A bum walked by. He had a radio. The radio said, “Long hair causes cancer.” We were dying. Everyday Yeah said the flamingo would be our gravestone. Then Everyday Yeah fell over. I thought he was dead, but he was only tired. I carried him home. I tucked us both into bed. When I woke up some hours later I was still alive. There were hairs growing out of the mattress. Everyday Yeah was bald and holding a pair of scissors. We were alive.

I have a friend who is from India. He tells me about the plants in India and about the roads. They are big, he says or maybe he said they are small. I can not remember. I remember I said, “EEverEE Didi Yahj.” He did not understand what I was saying. I thought I was speaking his native tongue. Then I thought, “Maybe he can’t speak Indian.” I do not remember what happened immediately after that. A few hours later I was sitting on my bed with Everyday Yeah. He was eating a can of tuna fish. I asked him why he had to eat a can of tuna fish on my bed. He had no answer. This did not disappoint me very much. I did not expect an answer. Maybe I should have. I am not sure what I should have expected. I do not remember what immediately happened after that. A few days later my friend from India was walking down the street. I stopped to ask him if he knew the weather. He did not. I was not that disappointed. We said other things. I do not remember what happened immediately after that. I think it was sunny.

There was a coffee cup on the table. I don’t remember why it was there. I asked Everyday Yeah. He said I should throw it out. I did not want to throw it out. It seemed very important. I’m not sure why. Sometimes things are important for no reason. I began to sweat. A man knocked on the door. I asked who was there. The man gave a friendly knock as a reply. I looked out. I could not see his face. He was too tall. I began to wonder if I should throw out the coffee cup. Everyday Yeah opened the door. I saw the man. He looked at me. He didn’t seem to notice Everyday Yeah. He looked at my hands. I was holding the coffee cup. I held it up for the man. He looked at it. Everyday Yeah tried to say under his breath that I should throw it out. I closed my eyes. I pretended I was a microwave. I dropped the coffee cup and shut the door on myself.

There were no courts available. Everyday Yeah said he saw some down the street. We walked. He said he picked a rose the night before. I didn’t believe him. There were no roses. I think he made the whole thing up. What do I know? There were no basketball courts down the street. He said we should just go to China. I did not like this idea. I did not like his thoughts. I tried to remember the last time we had played basketball. I shot the ball and then he shot the ball and neither of us made it in the hoop and we ran after the ball and he tripped me and as I was falling I tripped him and when we got up the ball had rolled into the street and we didn’t want to get it so we went home and thought about what we would have done if we still had a basketball. Then a few weeks later we bought a basketball and the courts were full and we walked down the street.

I slipped on the floor. Everyday Yeah laughed. We were in a donut shop. I didn’t want to mention the donuts, but there we were in a donut shop slipping and laughing. I slipped. Everyday Yeah laughed. We didn’t even eat any donuts. I had just come in to use the bathroom and as I was leaving I slipped. Everyday Yeah laughed so hard that the crumbs on his face fell off. I could see mush on his teeth and chocolate frosting on his lips. He would deny any involvement with the donut shop if I asked, but the evidence is clear. He ate five donuts while I was in the bathroom and now he’d rather laugh and lick his fingers than help me off the ground.

Everyday Yeah and I both don’t know how to play instruments, but we decided to start a band. We called the band, Robert Pollard Ate Me. We wrote a few instrumentals, but didn’t record them because we didn’t know how to play them on guitars and drums. The music was solid and in an attempt to preserve the music we wrote it on some bathroom stalls. Hoping to find some band mates we wrote our telephone numbers next to the music scales. No musicians have called.

“The family didn’t have enough money for a TV or a radio. It was a depressing scene. They had a single window fan and every night the whole bunch of them would gather around and listen to what stories it had to tell. Mostly it told the same stories. To be honest it didn’t tell any stories at all, but some nights, if the wind was blowing right you could hear some funny sounds.”

Everyday Yeah liked to say that if he ever wrote his autobiography this would be the opening paragraph. It would be a rags-to-riches story. He thinks he’ll write it when he gets rich. He does not want to write a still-poor-and-worthless story. He does not want to end his story with the wind carrying him away as he screamed to other poor families trying to listen to the wind and never hearing anything.

A man with a beard sits on the wall. He’s got a white beard. I don’t know why. He’s old. Maybe this is why he has a white beard. He is sitting on a white wall. Maybe this is why he has a white beard. He doesn’t sit on the top of the wall. The top is obstructed by the ceiling. There is no room up there for the bearded man. The bearded man is on the side of the wall. He hangs there or maybe he doesn’t even hang. A funny man with a green hat and black glasses drew the man with a beard. When he finished the first coat of paint he blew kisses to the world. And then he left without even finishing his painting. The man on the wall is crippled as a result. The painting still isn’t finished. The man with the beard only has half a beard. Many of the kids have known this all along. They’ve known from the beginning. The man in the green hat was nice to children. The unfinished beard was a secret he had with the children. That’s why the young ones were cheering so loudly when we came into the room. I have now cleared the room out. The buses took away the noise. It’s the end of the school day. “What should we do about this unfinished beard?” I said. “I think the kids like it,” said Everyday Yeah. “We’ll leave it in case the man in the green hat ever returns.” “I don’t think he will ever return.”

“I was hoping that would be more fun,” said Everyday Yeah. The hearse looked bored. A handful of people were carrying umbrellas even though there was no chance of rain. Everyday Yeah wore an orange shirt and the older folk gave him dirty looks.

“I wanted to meet a funny old lady that steals cars,” said Everyday Yeah.

I told Everyday Yeah that we were low on toilet paper.

“Be conservative,” I said. I didn’t expect him to throw the remaining roll at the mailman.

“I live my life free of political alliances,” he said.

There was a can opener on my pillow with a note attached when I woke up this morning. The note read: “I am leaving. I’ve decided to go away for a few years. I don’t know when I’ll return. I only know that it will be sometime in the future. I didn’t want you to be lonely so I decided to leave you this robot as a kind of clone/replacement.

On Thursday, there was a microwave in the basement. There is always a microwave. Everyday Yeah and I haven’t failed to notice. Even on the weekends we pay attention to this microwaves and the energy it emits.

Everyday Yeah at the breakfast table: “This bottle of orange juice says, ‘shake before drinking for fresh squeezed taste.’” Everyday Yeah began to shake the bottle.

I sold a man a photography manual. He didn’t want it, but still gave me a few dollars. I think he just wanted to talk. Or maybe he didn’t want anyone else to have it and the purchase was merely a shepard herding in his flock of dirty sheep. I know shepards tend to only herd sheep. In my mind I imagined hundreds of giant red puffs all with unfriendly faces.

“I’m looking for the Stallion’s room,” said Everyday Yeah.

“We don’t have one,” said the woman.

“I’m sure you do. Can you please check again?”

“I’d like a big ice cream cone,” said Everyday Yeah and began to run. I followed.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

There was a special painting for viewing at the noon hour. There may have even been an advanced screening the previous night at midnight, but one can’t be too sure of the rumors they hear from that crowd. Everyday Yeah and I made the noon showing and afterwards we went out for crab legs or crab stomach or both.

“I’m tired,” said Everyday Yeah.

“I know,” I said. It’s been a long time. It’s been twenty years, but we’ve only been keeping track for the last three-hundred days or so.

Ten minutes later we were confessing our sins to the local police.

I’ve never been able to figure out Everyday Yeah’s birthday. He’s never given me a straight answer when I asked.

“I’m the Easter bunny.”

or

“I’m an alien.”