My Neighbors

I don’t trust the cult at the end of my street. Last week that was the worst of my problems, and I wish it were still. For the past week I’ve spent my nights with my ear pressed to my bathroom floor… but I get ahead of myself. Perhaps some history would help to illustrate how things have taken a turn for the worse.

On the whole the little community down the block minds their own business, but this is a small town, and one’s personal activities always have broader social implications.

Their enclave is bordered by a tall wooden fence, and doesn’t fail to leave an impression. Oh, there aren’t any symbols or statues to tip off the idle observer. No Biblically-themed topiary or molar-shattering gongs, no hulking crosses or pipe organs. But to the astute observer it’s the lack of these things which draws the eye. Their facility isn’t ostentatious—not like, say, a stealth bomber hangar—because it’s much like the other houses on this block; your standard American Cult Compound style. It’s just much larger, like a bear in a dog costume: pretending to be a dog, but actually 20 times larger, and occasionally sitting on or mauling one of the other dogs. And they keep adding wings to it, out to the side, and stacked on top. So, “conspicuous” is the word, I guess.

The first time I really took notice of the cult was when they repainted their residence a year ago this spring. In the morning when I left for work I passed by the dark gray facility as usual, and observed a plain white van sitting by the curb outside the front gate. By the time I returned that evening their entire compound was at least two shades lighter gray. I nearly swerved off the road contemplating the zeal that it would require to complete such a job in a day’s time. What kind of diabolical operation was happening behind that fence?

I decided to pay closer attention, and couldn’t help but to cast a wary eye in that direction whenever I left my apartment. No one else seemed to pay them any mind however. When scores of plain-clothed men slung satchels over their backs and heaved them up the rear ramp no one batted an eye. But I noticed. When the drapes in their windows disappeared, only to be replaced by shiny silver ones, no one looked twice. But I noticed. And when the hot water in my shower began to peter out after only three minutes no one said a word. But I noticed.

And I wondered, might such an institution be in violation of local zoning statutes? I asked a friend of mine well versed in both architecture and public works, and the answer was both obvious and distressing. “In this area churches can’t occupy residential areas. That’s determined by the local Zoning Ordinance.” But then what about the huge church at the end of my street? “Well… either they’re in violation, or you’re living on holy ground, my friend.”

That was the day I began to pay more attention to my neighbors. Of course they wouldn’t raise a stink if they were all in on it. Or maybe they all belonged to their own competing factions, each one vying for dominance. It’s a cult-eat-cult world out there, and may the sweetest Kool-Aid prevail. Fourteen houses between my apartment and The Complex—14 little burgeoning cults. During the day my neighbors measured their carports, sized up their hedgerows, and expanded their porches. But at night…

The sound in my bathroom wasn’t like a drip. It was regular, but crisp like a ticking, and faint. There were nights where I heard nothing at all, and I thought I’d imagined the entire thing. But other nights the sound was undeniable, and was as close as a knock on the other side of the door. Last week I finally got up to see what was going on, and in the dark I followed the sound all the way down to my bathroom floor. The easiest assumption would be nesting possums, but I don’t know if I can make myself believe that. No, it’s the cults, I’m sure of it. They’ve grown restless, and - zoning ordinances be damned - something more primal is taking place.

I think they’re tunneling.

Related Tales

» “Hair” (21 of Dec, 2004)
» “Reality” (22 of Jan, 2004)
» “Figuring It Out” (11 of Jan, 2004)