by Bob'n Around
Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
|“God’s truth. Rich Jews have a space laser spitting fire, causing California forest fires.” Alice Parker’s eyes rolled wildly in her head.
"Sweet." Her husband, Tom Parker, swilled another long swallow from the bottle glinting in the rural Utah moonlight instead of answering yeah or neigh. When his wife got wound up it was the safest thing he could do to get foggy brained and lie low.
He’d last gotten this pleasantly inebriated over her insistence that the deep state had an international child porno ring used to abduct, torture and drink human blood as part of a satanic cult.” “So, sweet.” His tongue felt furry. All that nonsense over Alice's sister's kids mistaking an after school pickup ride in an over packed little league bus that had taken them for a ride.
Alice had organized this witch hunt with a group of like minded friends. Torches were lit, pitchforks out and emotions high pitched enough to be deadly. It was going to be a long night. Tom, fortified by his whisky, tried one last time to dissuade the mob from their hazy plan to take over the county seat.
“Lord almighty,” He shouted, “You see that? Chemtrails from jets overhead spilling deadly chemical and biological agents down on us. We got to vamoose.” The cloudy fantails of passing aircraft happened often enough, that part was likely to be true anytime night or day.
Tom clutched his throat, gurgled, threw up his hands and pointed heavenward. The thunder of low passing jet engines grew louder. Windows began to vibrate. Alice screamed, heaved her bloated body into Tom’s arms and fainted.
“They got her,” neighbor Harry Morgan swore. “We’re next. Everyone to the bomb shelter.” He led the way. Purchasing and converting an old missile silo to protect his family from the end of days was something he was proud of.
The makeshift quarters inside became crowded as fish in a barrel. A few trampled souls lay groaning on the ground leading towards it. It was further hazy evidence to the band barricading themselves inside that they were under direct attack.
Tom watched the huge nuclear attack shielded doors roll closed. “Good. I hate MRE packaged military leftover food. Have at it. Poison your innards likely as not.” He more or less rolled, heaved and shoved Alice into the back of their van.
His next step was hazy in his mind. Go home and sleep it off? One explosive fart from Alice’s behind made him gag. He donned a mask over his mouth and nose, going against prevailing mob norms, settling it firmly in place. Eyes tearing up, he fumbled his way to his driver’s seat, inhaled and put his pedal to the metal. “Don’t mind if I do. A kidnapping is about to take place. Space aliens abducting my wife.”
Tom had his alibi sort of set up. A certain farmer’s daughter in Peoch, Utah had him pegged as the original Elvis, tired of fame and glory, who had never actually died. She was a bird-like creature who could jump his old rooster bones like Alice had never dreamed of.
“Where are we?” Alice echoed from the back of the van. “What happened? Tom? Are you there?”
“We got to do something, sweetheart. (The mysterious) ‘They’ tried to kill you. Barely got you away alive. ‘They’ replaced you as leader with a double just like they did to the president’s wife, Melania Trump.” Tom took his foot off the gas. He’d had to think quick. “It’s the ‘Illuminati’. You are part of their grassroots plan to take over and secretly become the New World Order.”
Thrilled at the prospect of having been promoted in importance, Alice rolled her way to the van’s shotgun seat. “Where we headed? To Denver and the underground city beneath it which serves as their headquarters? It is time to reveal them for who they are.”
“We’ll have to watch out for trained Zionist eagles wearing tracking devices. Have to lay low. I’m sneaking you into a safe house out in the middle of the Utah desert. Up front it works as a polygamist church group compound. You’ll have to act as if you are one of the men’s multiple wives.” Tom’s furry tongue had loosened up.
“What are you going to do, Tom?” She asked as her husband spun to a stop in a whirlwind of dust.
“No time for questions. Climb on out. Wait. A farmer will be along in a short time to pick you up. He’s secretly a top ‘Proud Boy’s’ leader so he’ll act innocent and deny knowing you or anything about you. Got it?”
Alice’s lips trembled with fervor. Her eyes glazed over with patriotism along with some wonder about what it would be like being a member of some man’s harem. Tom hadn’t been too active in the sex department lately. She could use a man who knew what he was doing. “All right. Sure sounds mysterious, Tom. I’ll be alright until you get back.”
The flying saucer hovering over the van directly on top of Tom was no surprise to Alice. “Good luck, Tom.” She waved as her husband was sucked out of the van’s driver window and up beamed into the saucer’s bottom.
News of Alice’s band of supporters suffocating in their silo never reached her. To this day she thinks they are waiting inside, ready to launch a missile at her command. “How do I look?”
Alice toned up her body when picked up by a lost band of right wing extremists on a survival training class in the Utah hinterlands. She’s now running for the office of Utah governor on the promise to join Texas in succeeding from the union and resist the claim that Bill Gates used the COVID vaccine to inject microchip trackers.
Tom found the alien women needing human sperm to produce offspring surprisingly willing to meet his every wish and want. Tuned in to the news, he was happy to direct them into making a little mischief to keep things interesting.
“Texas needs a lesson. Use the adapted space laser to create climate change and another week of below zero temperatures, deaths, mayhem and carnage.” Tom’s new world order with him in charge would begin by putting the U.S. government subterfuge at fault.
Mass insurrections were planned to spontaneously occur world wide. Tom would appear as God's anointed apostle and prophet with extra-terrestrail backing. He'd be in power in no time at all.