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The Alien and the Cab Driver are Related! - 5

Updated on March 12, 2013

Queen Myra and Mick - 5

5th in a Fantasy Series – “Myra, The Alien Queen and Mick, the Denver Cab Driver”

I sat at the best restaurant in Downtown Beirut. Lots of diplomats, business men and unidentifiable types strolled and spoke. I seemed to be an object of attention until General Nakshah stood above me. He was late, but he did not look like he was hurrying.

He was long. They said the Pharaohs were made by their sculptors with broad shoulders and narrow waists to portray an image of power. Nakshah had that image, but he was flesh. A long nose that looked like it was designed to filter out sand filled air. His heavy lids and sharply green eyes made me stare. Just by casting my eyes about I could see he had an arresting effect upon those around.

He nodded and dismissed the coterie of 5 bodyguards who melted into the background. We occupied the dining table in the center of this restaurant. Made to attend to the interests of Western Clientele, the tables were round and adorned more in a Parisian style.

His modulated vocal power seemed like it was amplified. A soft horn playing into my ears. “You can have no earthly idea how utterly unique this meeting is. Myra, I do not understand her or her kind that well intuitively. But as I sit here, I am captivated by a problem.”

I nervously dropped a teaspoonful of sugar in my tea, and stirred. I was so completely captured that the slight sound of metal against porcelain seemed like a bell in a dark moist forest. “Can I help?”

You Are Going to be Very Helpful

He smiled showing teeth that were flawlessly white, and laughed a tenor’s laugh. “Oh, you are going to be very helpful. You have no idea.”

He leaned back and stretched his interminably long arms over the two chairs on either side of him. “This saddens me because when you hear what I am saying, and when you undergo what you are about to undergo, you will think that I am the cold blooded embodiment of evil.”

I could not muster a response.

“When in reality, I am not cold blooded.”

I sipped on the tea and decided to construct a half smile. Because -- he was exercising a very hearty self-indulgent laugh.

“When in reality, I am not cold blooded. Uhuhhaha. Forgive me - the conditions I work under allow very few moments for smiles, let alone laughter.”

“General Nakshah, what on earth are you trying to tell me?” My color was whitening, I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears.

“I agreed that because of your fantastic DNA Heritage, and your royal status, that I would entertain you as a kind of Liaison for the upcoming future.”

But there are volumes of policies and traditions that govern our conduct, after the aeons that we have been down here. I have recently been informed by my Chief Adjutant that I am in danger of violating a long tradition and actually effectively resigning from my Post if I do not put you through a series of physical examinations. You might call it torture, but we call it physical exams. And honestly I could not resign my post, because I am our law.

Remember the Law of the Medes and the Persians. I can not violate my own sayings because I am the law, so if I wish to trespass against my own sayings, I am committing a sacrilege against myself.”

I called my waiter and switched to Tequila, 1800.

I Must Obey Myself

“No one from another race. Chiefly your race can get near me. This near me. The nearness that we now experiencing, without a most thorough, undignified, psyche crushing, psychological/physical experience. You will scream out my name several times in great furious hatred. The slight smiles that your torturers give you are not intended to be derisive; they just like their work. And the Succubus. She really likes her work.”

“Myra says this was the highest degree of diplomacy.” I was fearful and angry. My hands were shaking with terror.

He put out his long fingered hand and came near to touching me. He furrowed his brow with what he would call loving concern. “You see, that’s just it. Since this is the highest degree of diplomatic contact, our laws declare that you have to undergo this traditional encounter.”

“You son of a bitch”.

“By the time you are done, that will be a light hearted expression of love for me. You will be so outraged, that when we are done with you, you will be unable to dislodge this from your head.”

I was practicing a deep breathing exercise.

“You’ll be Back for Desert!”

“Much of this is your problem. We feel that your Ego and sense of Dignity is one of the things that cause your outrage to so completely burn you up.”

“Will I live?”

“Sir, you’ll be back for desert.”

The five cohorts gathered around me. “I am going to be back here. I am going to be alive. And you are going to be here?”

“This is a 5 course meal. We will be laughing together before it is over.”

I stood and spoke deliberately through my teeth.

“In your creepy context, you may be able to live with yourself. Hell, you might be able to call this Diplomacy. But you can tell Myra that I disqualify myself, here and now.”

“Oh why?” He was completely disinterested, as wine was poured into a long glass, by a waiter.

“I’m Irish.”

“My dear friend, when you return you will actually have a kind of soul occupying delight. We can make you feel anything. Your Irish blood may up the passion, but you won’t be able to lift a finger against me.”

I was whisked into an armored Van. I looked up and thought I could spot Myra’s ship amongst the stars. The stars were twinkling. The ship was flashing.

“This isn’t Dentistry“!

In just five minutes I was laid out on a table with a myriad of wires adhering to me with unusual suction mechanisms that popped a little as I moved. They put a helmet on me.

For the first 10 minutes I felt like I was in the Dentist’s chair. They virtually did not notice me. It was as if I was their ten thousandth. And then I thought I probably was.

Then an attendant with a medical head piece, like a small sleek diver’s helmet moved over toward me. She looked into my eyes and then hit one button.

At this moment there was a tremendous fluid exchange taking place. Three tubes took blood, and two tubes were draining into me.

This action made me feel elevated. Of course I had no idea what the fluids were, but I was getting that “strange but good” feeling.

Then the movies started. I say “movies” because the scenes were continuous and not just out of control images. They were violent. Then they were disorienting, as if I were on high speed journeys. In the middle of this, they inserted a tubular instrument into my gut. I thought I would feel pain, but I didn’t. I thought I was going to scream, but I didn’t.

Nakshah was right. So much of what I was going through was the indignity of it, the human shame, and the confusion. However, it was not excruciatingly painful. But it was a bother. A big bad bother.

The drugs they were administering were truly separating my body, from my brain, from my own personal identity. This was disconcerting, but it was an effortless float. I was visiting myself like I was on an unassisted trip. It was an OK feeling. Especially since I sensed it was me. However, that was my sense. It might have been some psychic tom foolery. What did I know?

Then it all went dark. Several of the tubes and units were removed. An assistant walked in with the same cool helmet. But a long shock of orange hair lay on her shoulders. She was topless. She gave me a shot. She looked down at my midsection and then made a kind of motion to her Head Surgeon who was above us. All the people I could see were smiling. I felt like I was having an erection. It didn’t feel like a normal erection, it felt like an incidental happening amidst a parade of other sensate fireballs bouncing in and around my head.

A Six Foot Woman with Angelic Wings

The slight illumination was then swallowed by a tall six foot woman. She had angelic wings that moved slowly, as if they were made of something between jello and rubber. They moved in motion to music that seemed to elevate me. And yes, there I was – elevated.

She floated up and I greeted her. Her wings enveloped me. We were in a cocoon. Then complete estrus. I felt possessed in the most classic sense.

She put her tongue in my ears which started a torrent of climactic eruption. We undulated in the most gentle wave-like motion. My heart measurements were at extremely high levels. That seemed to be what others were also interested in. When I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest, she stopped the undulation. A mist was sprayed into the room so that I relaxed. I figured that’s what it was. I could tell they were not trying to kill me.

Then a bell rang. Like a message that all the metrics and measurements had come to a great agreement. This human is done!

She unfurled her wings, floated up and then went to a standing position. She disappeared into the back of the room and was taken by what seemed to be three Security Guards.

The crew surrounded me getting readings, and loosening all of the instrumentation.

I could not tell if an hour had passed, or three hours. It felt like it was going to be written on me for the rest of my life, it also felt like a Halloween ride, a drug oriented circus and a gigantic orgy with a beautiful demon. At least that’s what it felt like.

Within 30 minutes I was surrounded by my five agents on the noisy streets of Beirut. The most senior agent helped me walk. “Keep walking. If you can get stabilized, that will tell us we can take you back to General Nakshah.”

“Isn’t he afraid of me?” I felt a little like myself.

“He could kill you with a tongue flash.”

“A tongue flash”?

“I told him I was Irish. I thought that would scare him”.

The Senior Agent got reflective. “Amongst the patients, that experience is life altering to most.”

“Yes.” I was still stumbling a bit. I breathed the night air deeply. I thought I saw Myra’s ship up above.

“We got what we needed.” The Senior Agent motioned over to his fellows.

I would be there for desert.


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