Finally

Well, a month came and went and I heard nothin from them squirrel monkeys. I thought I'd seen them a couple times, but then it turned out that was just white lightnin in my eye. For a week or so I thought I'd been goin crazy and then recovered. I mean, hyper-intelligent squirrel monkeys? I was in for it bad, I thought. I tried talking to Douggy about it, but he kept tellin me that he'd seen a lot weirder stuff on the internet. He said that there'd been a couple of guys a little bit ago that found themselves a Bigfoot and put it in a freezer, then, when they thawed it out, it was really a rubber gorilla suit. What Douggy wanted to know, though, was how the Bigfoot got itself thawed out and then how'd it slip the rubber gorilla suit into the freezer before wandering off. After that, I figured I might not get no answers from Douggy.

Every time I started to think I was crazy, though, I''d go out and look at my truck. It sat there moldering away with a burnt up couch through the bed, scorched leather and paint job serving as a testament to my sanity. So I sat. I sat on my porch and waited for them dang squirrel monkeys to show back up. I was gettin ready to give up. But then, they come last night. They gathered around my truck and sat there lookin at me with their crazy glowin eyes and it looked like somethin was amiss.

The leader, he comes up to me and says, "So, it turns out you need our help after all."

And I says back to him, "I guess so. When did you learn how to talk?"

He replied, "We grow more intelligent all the time. We have just recently reached a plateau in which we are able to modify our own bodies for new purposes. We installed voice boxes into ourselves so that it would be easier to communicate with the humans. Also, we can now yell at dogs, and this confuses them long enough for us to get away. If that doesn't work, we have also installed laser eye beams and so we can fry them."

"Well, that sounds downright convenient," I tell them, "Is that where you've been all this time?"

"That, and watching the Olympics." he says.

"Yeah," I concede, "they was pretty exciting this year. Phelps got himself all them medals. What do you think about the gymnastics?"

"Look," he says to me, "I may just be a super-intelligent, genetically engineered cross of at least 104 different animals who just happens to look like a cross between a squirrel and a monkey, and I may have only been on this earth for a couple of years, but even I know that Chinese girl couldn't have been more than 13. I mean, Fred over there is taller than her." He pointed to a shadow lurking near the woods, and I jumped a little at seeing a 4 foot tall squirrel monkey.

"Holy mother of Jehoshaphat!" I yelled, "He's a big'n!"

"Part whale," the leader explained. "He's got an enormous tongue, too."

"I guess that would make sense," I concede.

"Yeah," I say.

"Yeah," he says.

Then we stood and looked at each other awkwardly for a moment. You know, those silent moments can really stretch out. I didn't want to be a jerk and ask him to fix the truck right away, but I didn't think we really shared enough common interests to have an extended conversation. I mean, if it was Douggy, or even a human, that might be one thing, but when you're talking to a genetic experiment, you're really on shaky ground. I don't know if they even have hobbies beyond the physical alteration and stuff.

After a little while, the leader cleared his throat and said, "By the way, I'm Alistair."

"Is that catching?" I ask.

"No, that's my name," he says, a little too uppity.

"Oh," I tell him, "what kind of name is that?"

"It's English," he says and I'm starting to feel kind of stupid.

"Are you from England, then?"

"No, I just found it in a British newspaper and I liked the way it sounds."

"Huh." I grunted and sort of looked off in the distance.

"So," he started, "you hung the lantern?"

The ice had been broken, I could go ahead and ask him about the truck. Finally. I explained to him about the flaming couch and asked him if he could fix it. He looked concerned for awhile, then went back and consulted with his friends. I don't think they was speaking any kind of language I'd ever heard before. When he came back, he told me,

"I'm sorry this has happened to you. We never meant to get you in this deep. We only needed a front to fund our operations. Now, however, it appears that we must tell you the whole story. We were not created by any government. We were created by a crime syndicate that is attempting to destroy everything held precious in this world. They are attempting to stop people from sleeping so that they can be turned into automatons and live only to serve the crime syndicate. They can then take over the world and live a life of luxury while the rest of the human race becomes their slaves."

"Wow, that sounds pretty bad," I say.

"I know," he concurs, "but it gets worse."

"Worse than all of mankind being their slaves?"

"Yeah," he says.

"Ok, are you going to tell me how?"

"Yeah," he says.

Then we just look at each other for a bit.

"Soon?" I ask.

"What?" he says, shaking himself back to reality, "Oh, sorry, he says, I was just thinking about that gymnast again. Seriously, how can they expect anyone to believe that girl is 16? Anyway, yeah, it gets worse, they're Ninjas!"

"Ninjas?"

"That's right! Ninjas!"

Then one of the squirrels pulled out a little systhesiser and played a very dramatic chord. I thought it was a little over the top, myself, but I didn't want to say anything and risk my truck not being fixed.

"So, Ninjas attacked my truck with a flaming couch? Is that what you're telling me?" I ask, not really believing any of this, but I'm just drunk enough to go along for the ride.

"Yes, that is what I'm telling you," he says. "But it gets even worse."

"Worse, huh?"

"Yeah..." he drifts off and comes back again, "You can just look at her and see that there's no way she's 16. And the Chinese expect us to believe that they wouldn't fake a passport so she could compete? Unbelievable! And you know what else is unbelievable? They're Meth Ninjas!"

"That is unbe..." I begin, "Wait, what's a Meth Ninja?"

"That's their group, the Meth Ninjas," he explains, "They're trying to spread the use of methampetemines around the world. That is the drug they're using to lure people into slavery."

"That's pretty harsh," I tell Alistair. "So, where do you come into all of this?"

Well, it looks like my coffee's done and I got some yard work to do, but I'll tell you the rest of the story tomorrow.