"That's where the story gets interesting?" I clarified. "That's great, because I've been bored out of my skull for what seems like weeks now. Time really slows down when you're bored, doesn't it?"
"Time doesn't really exist," replied Alastair, "at least not as you experience it."
"You wanna explain that to me?" I asked.
"I could," he said smarmily, "but you have to be super intelligent to understand it. The story of how we Squimonk began fighting the Meth Ninjas of Clan Platypus is more your speed."
I was a bit taken aback, but I'd had a couple of jars of my moonshine and I was feeling mighty friendly, so I let him get away with it. If I''d had one jar less, or even one jar more, I likely would have challenged him to some fisticuffs. Instead, I told him, "Well, get on with the story then."
And he did. Clan Platypus carefully designed their perfect couriers. They were made to look like squirrels, but have abilities and intelligence beyond the average rodent. They were given the ability to glide long distances, see in the dark, and be able to find their way to anywhere from anywhere without having to stop and ask for directions, even in those confusing neighborhoods where the street names only differ in label and not in name. You know, one place there's a Roosevelt St. and three blocks over there's a Roosevelt Dr. and that crosses Roosevelt Pl. Even in those kinds of neighborhoods, the Squimonk could find their way with perfect accuracy. This was an essential skill because, if you have a customer wanting Meth at 2142 Roosevelt Pl. and a squirrel shows up with a bag of white powder at 2142 Roosevelt Dr. there will be an enormous amount of explaining to do. The really funny thing is that, even though Meth is a stimulant, addicts are much more relaxed about a squirrel showing up at their door with a bag full of drugs than the average person who, more likely than not, will freak out. To prevent this, the Squimonk needed to show up at the right door every time. In addition, they needed to recognize and be able to count money. A lot of drug addicts will try to rip off a courier squirrel, but if they're confronted with a squirrel that can count, as well as chew their leg off from the knee down in three seconds, they will likely be more honest in their financial dealings.
With their new abilities, the Squimonk were sent into the world to be couriers for the Meth and thereby part of Clan Platypus' nefarious plan for world domination. Because of shifting circumstances and different delivery requirements, several versions of Squimonk were created, each suited to a different task or different environment. However, five years ago, something remarkable happened.
Clan Platypus had struck a deal with a very paranoid, very rich Meth dealer who lived in the deserts of Utah. He had created a fortress of sorts in the middle of nowhere, defended with drone aircraft, landmines and robot tigers. He was willing to share his defense schematics with the Clan so that they could send a courier directly to his house, where the transaction would take place in a sensory deprivation chamber. The Clan needed to design a new Squimonk with the capability of maneuvering through the mine field, avoiding or defeating the tigers, disguising itself from the drone aircraft, entering the house and finally being able to make correct change in a sensory deprived environment. In addition, because of the size of this order, the Squimonk would have to be able to carry 40 pounds. It was quite the task.
"The Clan's scientists worked night and day on the new Squimonk. The result was the apex of their engineering program, or so they thought. That Squimonk was me."
I looked at him for a moment. Then I said, "So you're the apex of the breeding program? All this work by these ninjas to create a perfect meth delivery system, and it's you?"
"Why do you seem so surprised?" he asked. "I have assembled an army of Squimonk to fix your truck overnight and also fight against our creators and former masters. I was smart enough to try to recruit you as our face to the humans. I was also smart enough to let you publish our conversation to the world so they would all know the danger. Why shouldn't I be the apex of the breeding program?"
"Well," I said, "I guess you got me there."
"I sure do. Now, do you want to hear about how I broke free?" he offered.
"I would love to," I replied.
