The next-door neighbors were strange. So strange were they that it came to a point that everyone in the neighborhood knew just how strange they were. It all started when the nuclear family, two parents and 2.3 children, moved in. Our street is an old fashioned type; one with nice Victorian houses, and one that welcomes new people with open arms, and lot’s of tuna casserole.

Right of the bat, they were weird. They had a look about them that made them seem unreal, like an artists rendition of a person. All of the members of the family were attractive in that blonde hair, blue eyed, All-American kind of way, and wore clothes that evoked the same thoughts of baseball, apple pie, and mom.

The day we had the party for the new guys, it was beautiful and nothing out of the ordinary happened, until the time came to socialize with the family’s kids. My friends and I decided to pick a sport, soccer, and play for as long as we could, so we wouldn’t have to talk to them much. During the game, I noticed that they moved in really weird, jerky motions, almost like a person in an old movie. Screen by screen by screen. I talked to my friends, but we came up with no explanation as to why they should look, and move the way they did. We kicked the girl a ball, and she looked like a flipbook as she reached in the air and tried to block it. I gave a puzzled glance to Timmy. Huh.

A couple of weeks later, July 7, 2007, we had the younger brother over for dinner. Afterwards, we played a game, Yachtzee. Bobby, as he was called, had never played before, so he was quite surprised when told to add up his score at the need of the game. He wasn’t all that good at math, I guess.

“Woops, I made a mistake adding 2 and 2.”

“Just erase it and start again.” I replied.

“Umm, I’d really rather not. Sorry, but can you do it for me?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s just that I don’t like…erasing things, that’s it.” He finished lamely.

“Oh. Well sure I guess I’ll erase it for you.” I did so, and when I was done, I blew off the shavings. They landed on the kid, and he started screaming.

“Get it off of me, get it off! Help!”

“Jeez kid, what’s wrong with you?” I reached up to his shirt, and just to terrorize him, rubbed the eraser bits into his torso. To my immense surprise, some of the boy came with it.

“Oh my God! What’s happening?” There was a gaping hole in the kid’s chest, right where I had wiped the eraser. Huh.