Job Application

If you read the following story, it may bother you. This prelude to the story is actually part of the story, although this prelude is much longer now. In fact, this prelude is a story in and of itself. It's a play-within-the-play, and a true "two for one" all at once. Got it? Good.

There are no broken laws here; this is just writing. It's merely words on paper now, and will be words on a computer screen by the time you read it. Nobody promised you good taste or proper logic. Nobody said, "Oh, hey come and read this story." I'm not advertising this one. I haven't told anyone to come to my site and read THIS story. I may tell people to come to my site, sure, but what they read or don't read is none of my business.

We live in a country where newspapers can print the instructions for creating pipe bombs on the front page. The former leader of our country used his power to fondle interns, and then lied about it to us on tv; and nobody fired or sued him. So DO NOT think for one moment that I'm going to get in trouble for anything written here. I have freedom of speech and press, and maybe some other freedoms too. And since Ice-T hasn't gotten in trouble for writing the lyrics to "Cop Killer", I don't want to hear any crap about anything I've written, write now, or may write in the future. Got it?

It's a standard little story about believing in higher beings. It's just some of my experiences, beliefs, opinions and plans. It has a dash of others' logic, a natural progression, and then a fairly violent twist toward the end. If this is the type of story that may offend you, then good for me.

This story is not submitted for your approval. Fuck you. And I mean that sincerely. This story is submitted as kind of a job application; I don't really have a resume ready. Well, you'll see. If I do wind up in court, then I will refer to the next sentence as the "last sentence of the fifth paragraph". Turn back now; do not read any further.


Boy it sure is different now. I saw nasal implants back in the 60's when I was just a little kid. I didn't know what they were then, and I didn't know that my childhood buddy and his dad were shape-shifting aliens, but I saw how some of the process worked. Honestly; aliens among us. Do you believe me?

I remember a few of the days of "lost time" back in elementary school. I remember trying to explain to my mom how a whole school day went by in just a few seconds. She'd say, "Oh, I know exactly what you mean." Of course you do mom.

As it turns out, it was probably a poltergeist who frequently victimized me back in my attic room after the parental divorce. Objects moving, shelves falling, occaisional unfamiliar voices saying one or two words was probably less "alien" and more like a "dislocated soul". However, apart from my room-based personal mini-traumas, the later 70's and early 80's were when (I thought) I saw the most unidentified flying objects. And my many "sightings" reminded me that we are not alone.

Due to time constraints, we have to skip some major elements of mid-teenagehood, and slide on up to 1982 and the car wreck. I missed the month of November because I was in a coma with head trauma, a broken pelvis, and broken neck. Whatever was done to me has been blacked out, or blocked out. When I woke up, perhaps I was supposed to "get my act together". I don't actually know; what I did know was that I had a BUNCH of questions, and (as usual) nobody was going to help me out.

The car wreck was not a suicide mission; I didn't plan on it. However, at the moment before impact, I was definitely ready to die. Believe it or not, I was relieved. Just before the crash, I not only accepted death, but I actually anticipated it. I was glad that the work was going to be over.

Tell me that life is a gift, and how lucky and blessed I am. Tell me how I'm supposed to switch sides in the argument, and go from being a conspiracy buff to being a corporate puppet. My mom switched sides, and now she lives a totally two-faced existence. It doesn't appeal to me.

I say that the business of government and religion have had more than enough opportunity to take me in and appease me. They obviously do not care about me, and do not consider me a threat. They might have made a bad call on that one. My hate-strength is apparently great enough for the aliens to want to keep me alive, so I'm ready to cut a deal with them.

This is a good point to expand on. Apparently the aliens do have an agenda for us, and good for them. Conceptually similar to the plot of the 70's movie "Phantasm", humans of the future will be the slaves of higher life forms. Oh yes, children, do not believe me; I MUST be making all of this up.

Let's be honest, okay? There is no all-powerful God coming to help us. There is no son of God (second, third, or whatever "coming" we're due for now) named Jesus (looking like a young Ted Nugent) who is going to walk across the globe in a white robe and convince all the gang-bangers to drop their uzi's and join hands. Oh it's a beautiful thought, yes, but it's not gonna happen.

The drinking water is drying up, and the ozone holes are growing. The toxins are running rampant, and the landfills are overflowing. I think that might have rhymed, by the way. Exactly how much time do you think we have left?

The governments sold us out years ago. Progress eliminates nature, and the artificial is poison. Hope I'm not going too fast for you. We are all just crash-test-dummies in search of a big brick wall. That's another free song lyric, or bumper sticker; consider it as my gift to you.

I don't understand how it all works, and neither do you, but somehow these aliens feed off of our hate-strength. I remember an old episode of Star Trek where there was a negative energy entity that fed off anger and hate. Captain Kirk and the crew beat this tv villain by laughing at it. We should be so lucky.

Unresolved stress, frustration, panic, futility, and vivid memories of being done wrong; these are the tools of fuel for the future alien slave masters. No wonder they like me so much! I have 30+ years of anxiety twisted through circular religious logic, poor government, and chronic mass-stupidity. I am white, but I don't discriminate; I want to kill everybody. And this brings me to my next point.

Motive and opportunity...Here I am; ready, willing, and able to get this thing rolling. Let's colonize this worthless cesspool into something that is better organized. All you guys need to do is start a nice chain-reaction of global destruction, and then come in right behind it with a "serve us or die" campaign. I'm here to help.

I want to grind up the proud humans and feed them to the slaves. I want to create more confusion and hate among my fellow humans than any alien race could hope for. I want the aliens to worship ME as the supreme human traitor; I want the little aliens to do research projects on me in their little alien school libraries. I want to be the most famous common-man human in all of alien history. Wow; and some kids just want to be firemen when they grow up. See ya in the labor camps!

And I'm ready to make it personal, too. I want to look into the eyes of every crack mama who comes through my "processing" line. But it's not just about the "space-wasters", I want to see millions of people seeing me as the last thing they see before they're ground into slave food. I'll smile, I'll wave, and I'll say cute things like "Hey, yuppie, how's that stock portfolio today?", and "How much interest does your mutual fund draw?". And on my best days, I'll be eating an actual human burger while making yum-yum noises, and waving it at the not-yet-burger people. I'll spout burger logic like "The average adult male makes about 140 burgers. The average adult female makes about 100. And the average fat girl makes about 200 burgers. 200 burgers will feed a family of 4 for a whole week. Yum yum yum.

And, along with the burgers, we make french fries out of children's fingers. They're crispy and delicious. Care to try one? FORGET IT! These are mine! Yes, folks, you wanted your life to have meaning. Well now it does. Your life means 'lunch' to a hard worker who was not nearly as proud as you are. See where all that pride got you?"

I don't hate humans, I just think that humans are totally worthless, spoiled, selfish, abusive, and stupid! Personally, I might keep a few of them around for entertainment value. But love turned to lust, generosity turned to greed, concern turned selfish, and all of a sudden you humans started acting like you owned the place. Well, guess what? You don't! You don't belong here; you're not needed, you don't have a "right" to live, and nobody asked you to be here. You were lucky enough to have this chance that you screwed up. Honestly; trying to explain it to you morons is a waste of breath.

"If all of your friends were ground into burgers, would you get ground up, too? You know you would. You wouldn't want to be alone and scared, would you? You need interpersonal contact, quality time, and attention, right? Exactly! So scream loud as you drop into the grinder. God Damn, I love this job! Somebody bring me another burger, and some more fries!"

I have quotas to meet, so don't hold up the line. (Occaisionally I'll spray soapy water on the floor conveyor--to make it slippery) Oh look; another group hug of whiners and cry-babys. If you greasy spots had a clue, then you'd be shooting birds, mooning me, or something else defiant. But no, you're just whimpering little pansies. Waaaa Waaaaa Waaaa.

The mission statement calls for meat, and I am here to make the burgers. Chop, grind, bleed, and die. Next! Hey look; you've caught me red-handed! Keep the line moving; die, die, die. Death is a serious business, but THIS is just a meat-grinder. You know how you boil lobsters alive? Well, this is the "lobster's revenge". Feed the hungry, baby!

Eventually I will become burger-food, too. And that's okay, because I know my role. They don't "need" me. But the work I am doing is necessary, and I do a good job, so I'm being kept around for now. I'd just like to point out that it is my "attitude problem" that has kept me alive, thank you. And now I am thrilled and challenged by doing the most important work of my life.

Hey; get your own job.

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