Reptilian Empire: Part One

PROLOGUE


IN the beginning the Earth was a bountiful garden. It gave forth with many good things to kill and eat. When the Reptilians came to the blue planet, they found it warm and wet. They prospered here, multiplied and grew really, really big.

But the air was too sweet for them. Too much oxygen and not enough carbon dioxide. In time they began to die.

From Sirius they brought woman and man, and the serpent lay down with them promising them wisdom and a mind blowing three some.

Woman came forth with offspring that looked Human but were both Human and Reptilian. And thus was Mankind thrust from the garden and the great forgetting began.

Deep in their double helix the message was subtly planted-transform the Earth. Their visceral urging cried, 'add more carbon dioxide to the air'.

Burn baby, burn!

Make the air good for Reptilians.

This is the Purpose of Human Life on the planet Earth.

The Book of Zogwump: Chapter 1, verses 4-9



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CHAPTER ONE











RAOL pulled off the filter mask he wore whenever he worked in the apartment. He pushed back the heavy drapes, opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the balcony. His jumpsuit stank from the curry sauce he kept simmering on the stove. It covered up the other odors he was creating and made the place smell just like the rest of the building.

He lit a cigarette. Twelve stories below people scurried about like the little meaningless ants Raol knew them to be. In the distance he could see the top of the CN tower thrusting up into the hot, hazy July air. The world's tallest freestanding structure. Toronto's proud emblem of construction technology, corporate wealth and small dick compensation.

He let himself fantasize once again about what he was going to do with the money. Fifty thousand US back home in Sao Paulo would be a fortune. Women, parties, drugs. The world would soon be his.

He flicked his cigarette over the railing and watched it drift down and land beside a middle-aged woman with red Lucille Ball hair, who was marching across the parking lot towards the front door. "It's pay day," Raol sang as he slipped back into the apartment and waited for the knock.

"They want chemistry," he thought. "I'll give them chemistry."

Bernard Slackbacker stepped into the elevator. He was sick of this building. He'd be happy never to smell curry again as long as he lived. Thank goodness it was nearly over. He was alone in the elevator and pulled a compact mirror out of his bag, to check his makeup. He'd just had his red hair touched up at the beauty parlor and his nails manicured and painted. He felt every inch a lady.

He dropped the compact into his large Gucci bag and it clunked nosily against his silver plated 9mm Beretta. Before the elevator reached the 12th floor he took out a pair of white dress gloves and pulled them on.

Raol answered the door almost immediately.

"Bernice. How lovely you look today," Raol crooned.

"Skip the shit, Raol! Is it ready?"

"As you can see," Raol said pointing to a large Tupperware container on the kitchen table.

"Is it stable?"

"Rock solid. You would need a primer and an electrical charge to set it off. Just like what I make for the Colombians. Something from the pharmacy, something from the grocery store. A little of my wizardry and boom your problem solved. You got my money?"

Fifty thousand dollars in 100 dollar bills make a pile about the height of a 500 page paper back novel. Raol broke it into two piles and shoved one into each of his front pant pockets, chuckling to himself about the size of the wad in his pants as he took the elevator to the ground floor.

He walked across the parking lot to his battered Toyota. As he put the key in the lock a burly man in a black suit came around the front of his car toward him. Raol stepped back into the arms of another burly man in a black suit who had come up behind him.

"Let's go for a drive, Raol." One suit said.

A black Hummer with tinted windows pulled up with two more suits in the front seats. They duck walked Raol to the car and squashed him between them in the back seat.

"Don't kill me," Raol pleaded.

We're not going to kill you," one of the suits said.

"Please don't kill me," Raol moaned.

We're not going to kill you," the other suits answered.

"I know you're going to kill me," Raol sniveled.

"Shut the fuck up or we'll kill you just to stop your whining," the first suit snapped.

Raol stopped whining and shut the fuck up. He started to tremble.

"You piss your pants and I'm going to cut your nuts off and shove them up your nose. You got that Raol?"

Raol shook his head to indicate that he got it. Not pissing his pants for the next ten minutes was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. He thought his bladder would explode. When the suit in the front passenger seat turned around and jabbed him in the leg with the hypodermic needle it was a relief to pass out.

When he woke up at the corner of Sherbourne and Dundas in downtown Toronto Raol couldn't remember who he was, where he was or even what he was. He searched his empty pockets. Nada.

He walked up to a twenty-dollar hooker working the corner.

"I don't know who I am," he said to her.

She looked over his torn clothes and snorted with disgust. "Lucky you," she said.