“Well, do they come out of the top or the bottom?” Insistence and impatience.
“How the fuck am I supposed to know,” I growled back, climbing up the stack of cardboard boxes.
The closet door was open and was convinced they were at the top, but nobody believed me. I can find it. I can find it, I know I’m right. Those fuckers are always against me.
The rest of the group had been fumbling at the bottom of the closet, looking for a trap door in the floor.
“What do we do when we find them?” she asked, one brow raised.
“I don’t know. Stop talking. I think… just a little more…” the ceiling of the closet broke free, finally, like a Don’t Break the Ice game. Yellowish light glowed from somewhere above.
Why is the room so packed full of junk?
We waited for a while and nothing happened. I couldn’t get up into the closet high enough to peek through to see what was up there. We just had to wait.
Finally, a Pygmy Tarsier popped its head out of the gap and came crawling through, its huge, eerie eyes surveying the landscape. It had something to say, and started to speak.
Then I woke up. Sadly, I’ll never know what the pygmy tarsier had to say, but I’m sure it was important. Or apocryphal, as is the wont of pygmy tarsiers, the little bastards.