They were the chanters

When I was in high school, I used to write intentionally bizarre and surreal poems and stories. Some of you had the pleasure of hearing me read some of these poems. But today, while searching for some papers I needed, I came across some of these stories and poems, many of which I have not seen for years.

So, as a peek into my bizarre mind, here is one of the short short stories that I wrote once. Keep in mind that a great deal of my strangeness in high school was because the last thing I wanted to do was fit in at Marion High School in Marion, Indiana.

As I was washing my car, I heard a soft chanting noise. I couldn't quite make out what the words were, and of course my curiosity was piqued. So I followed.
I walked down the street towards where I thought the noise was coming from. I ran into Linda along the way.
"Go, go, tell them that it's wrong!" she yelled.
I walked on. I came across Burt, the Civil War buff.
"Lee," he said.
"Grant," I replied.
I walked on. The chanting was getting louder, but I still couldn't make out what was being said. I could tell the sound was coming from many people though.
I saw Aldie on the corner.
"Have you seen what they've done to poor Lamb-Bake Jones?" he asked.
"Yes, and I think it's awful," I responded, not really knowing what he was saying.
I could make out the last word of the chant now -- "oven." I walked on.
Finally, I came to the building whence flowed the sound. I entered. The chanting was much louder. I knew it must be coming from the room across the hall. I opened the door. Inside, I saw what looked like 30 people, all wearing aprons, sitting in a circle. They didn't notice me. They were the chanters. I noticed that aprons were the only things they had on, except one man who was also wearing an armband. Other than the aprons, all of these people were naked. I listened to what they were chanting:
"Group sex, group sex, fruit pie, oven. Group sex, group sex, fruit pie, oven . . ."
One of them saw me and tossed me an apron. I decided to join them since I had already taken the lasagna out of the oven.

If I remember correctly, the chant in the story was inspired by a dream one of my friends had had the night before. But my favorite part is that I named someone Lamb-Bake.