The Reptilian Telepathy of Birds by R.K. Galvez (best books to read for knowledge .TXT) 📕

facial expressions in his pocket mirror.

At the time, I had felt his concern – it was an extremely big concern, I must say - though I can only guess what he was concerned about. It was very hard. It may have been that letter the other day….

“Oh darn it,” said Ramussi.

That was the best conversation he was able to muster with himself. He was seeing people appear in the windows again. Not the mould-folk again… He needed to consult his dust-mites about these quasi-cosmic developments. Surely it was a silent invasion?

PART TWO: A Coffee shop [and: That Letter the Other Day...]

…Ramussi was an impoverished word doctor, so this made him feel insecure. Though he was familiar with various substances and part of the liquid opium legalization campaign, he had very few public causes. He was a strange individual. If I wasn't alien to this realm I would have thought differently, but then again, I suppose everyone thinks differently.

Galvez sweated, looking feverish. He was burning up and looked ill, feeling his rough skin; he tried to not think about the window.
“Umm” was all that Galvez managed to say; he knew he would continue to keep thinking about the window. The enforced diet of soya and refined urine had not helped his astral progression, despite his belief in the healing powers of various pollutants. He had become too weary to sit at the intersections, or wander through busy traffic at roundabouts.

He perspired more frequently and suddenly felt cold. Was the window open? [I do not know, but nor does Galvez. Unless Galvez checked the window, as he would need to physically get up...] He knew that constantly thinking about the window would keep making him think about whether the window was open or closed. It was a tricky kind of reality, but someone has to get lost in it…

Goodnow stopped reading and gasped in fear, screwing it all up; he did not know Tommy Tellman moonlighted as a pulp fiction writer as well as being part of the C.O.G. team. This was a disciplinary matter, even if he was a life-coach. What awful trash, thought Goodnow. It didn’t make too much sense either. It couldn’t be right, could it? It may lead him to a real grimoire. Goodnow was now worried; he had performed a ritual on a whim. He should have found out more; he cursed everything. What did the rest of C.O.G. team know?

And, the paranoid thoughts flinging through his mind, what were they up to in these other worlds? Hours went by and Goodnow had no rest. He had a feeling these colleagues of his were going to disobey his orders and find his true plans behind his muto-farm. He hated the mutant police; he hated the demon-tecs. He didn’t know what to do. Goodnow was in virgin territory. He had always known what to do. He needed the mutants alive. He needed some flesh out of this. That’s why Ludovic came in handy.

Goodnow took out a crystal phallus and stroked it gently.

“Oh Ludovic,”cooed Goodnow.

15) THOSE TIMELESS FLAPPERS STRIKE AGAIN!

The mindless self-indulgent reptilian flapping had caused the alien-muto-cannibals to go into some kind of trance. This strange trance was almost a strange incantation to the universal ether; and just happened to be full of ritualistic mating. They hypnotically copulated with each other, some occasionally consuming the weaker alien-muto-cannibals. There were about seven fat ones left during this process. They were very fat at this point.

Trogger and Zip were waiting for the fissure to close; but Tellman had already guided the Hawker Typhoon near to Zip’s giant parched lips. She held her breath; waiting for the shroomade to hit her.

“GET READY OVNO!” shouted Tellman.

Ovno nodded and aimed the shroomade at Zip’s mouth. She parted her huge luscious lips slightly as Ovno expertly fired the shroomade through the gap. Zip smiled, nodding.

“WE HAVE TO HANG AROUND, YOU’LL SEE WHY, KRUGGY!” Tellman shouted to him.

Krugler could just make out Zip slowly shrinking.

Ovno laughed.

Krugler heard Ovno talking in his mind, and he said: “My job’s finished - just as well I still got that sharp-shooting down well. Never lose it, do we? Anyway, people, great working with you all. I got to find Tipp. He’s probably gone back to the 1860s. He’s a demon, I’m telling you!”

With that, Ovno faded; he melted out of time as if he had never existed. The tiny metallic suit was empty.

“WHERE’S HE GONE?” asked Krugler.

Tellman shrugged, then shouted:

“IT WAS HIS TIME TO GO, KRUGGY! THAT’S ALL, DON’T TAKE IT SO PERSONALLY; HE’LL LIVE AGAIN, WE ALL DO!”

Krugler felt like crying but was unsure if he was able to cry in his liquefied form. He was amazed he was able to speak.

“WHAT ABOUT TROGGER?”

Tellman laughed his wheezy laugh; he had managed to light his cheroot.

“DON’T WORRY ABOUT HIM! HE’S GOT ANOTHER MISSION – YOU CAN’T KILL SOMETHING THAT’S ALREADY DEAD – LOOK, KRUGGY, THERE HE GOES!”

Krugler looked up and saw that Trogger had already shrunk down to his normal height of seven foot or whatever. He was riding on his zombie-pterodactyl and had managed to get through the time fissure. That was the last Krugler would see of Trogger.

Meanwhile, Zip had changed from a giantess down to the size of a primordial dwarf. It was an amazingly vital transformation. Tellman guided the Hawker Typhoon down, doing his cosmic strut, as if he was controlling it with his mind. Krugler realized Zip was still naked and had briefly thought something dirty about trying to shape his sludge form into a large phallus to slide inside her. Was intercourse even possible when you had been mutated into liquefied detritus?

“THANKS TOMMY,” shouted Zip, snapping Krugler out of his reverie.

Krugler gave Zip a shy smile. Zip eyed his goo-form as if she had guessed he’d been thinking dirty thoughts about her again. Tellman handed Zip a silver all-in-one stretch-suit; Zip looked even more of a cosmic pixie in this silver romper number. Krugler would have ejaculated if he was able to still. He couldn’t find his pen-spoon either.

Zip jumped into Ovno’s tiny metal suit, lodge inside the spacious cockpit. Krugler had banished all his dirty thoughts to the back of his mind- wherever his mind might be situated within his body of liquefied flesh. He needed to focus; he just had no idea what to focus on.

“LET’S GO, TELLMAN, WE’RE DONE HERE!” Zip barked at Tellman.

Tellman stubbed out a cheroot and smiled cordially. He calmly replied:

“SURE THING, ZOE! NORKY’S CLOSE BY, SO WE CAN ALL RELAX!”

Krugler was amazed that the alien muto-cannibals were still frozen in some kind of mystic trance. As Tellman guided the Hawker Typhoon up towards the lysergic fissure; the beating of wings was so intense it started to thud against his liquid auditory senses.

Tellman laughed - lighting another cheroot and flickered like a hologram - as if he was in a totally different reality. Krugler realized he was a demon-tec too; he was part of the team. He was just like Tipp and Ovno. What had he got himself involved in? He should have stayed in stasis and turned the colony job down.

16) A RE-BORN OCCULTIST ENTERS THE CRYSTALLINE ROOM

Trogger burst into the space-craft, not bothered by the fact he wasn’t breathing. He had come to rescue Ludovic from Gooodmann and Goodnow’s warped experimentation – Trogger had heard Ludovic’s pzionik screams - but he had not counted on Ludovic being trapped in a pzi-drain.

Trogger didn’t have much technical knowledge. You could safely say he lacked knowledge and wisdom; but Trogger had control of his eternal blood-gun. He was always trying to get into more knowledge and wisdom when he was able to find it and consume it easily. Trogger’s hunting instincts were not in question. He could smell Goodmann and Goodnow.

Goodmann and Goodnow both saw Trogger on their mini-i-cameras; he seemed to be feeding his pterodactyl in the docking bay. On closer inspection it turned out to be one of their devoted aides, Bishop Kunfy, who was being ripped apart by Trogger’s reptilian beast-pet. Not another re-born occultist, thought Goodnow. He grimaced, fearing the pain Trogger might inflict upon them.

“How did he get in here?” croaked Goodmann. “He’ll ruin everything! You know we can’t control him!”

Goodnow gulped, looking around at the controls. He activated a crystal phallus-button that glowed at the foreskin when depressed.

“The pods are ready; we’ll leave him with the Occultist Dolls. We can always get more.”
“You mean clone more?” Goodmann queried.
Goodnow smirked and shrugged quite casually.
“You know me too well, old friend,” murmured Goodnow. Goodmann despised Goodnow’s effeminate affection, but was momentarily flattered by this weird affection.

]***[

Krugler had no idea what happened. As he entered the fissure, he saw a huge tortoise-bird fly straight pass them and emit a massive lysergic fart over the frozen alien-muto-cannibals. Those A.M.C. blighters really got it! They started dissolving; the Luna surface started dissolving; the colony disappeared as if it had never existed.

The giant Tortoise-bird winked at Krugler. He looked to see Zip trapped in the suit and he looked at Tellman, as he faded. Zip whistled at Tellman.

“What is it, Zip?” said Tommy Tellman.

Zip smiled.

“It’s my stop, Tommy. You take care - I’ll seek you out in 2015; maybe you can be my life-coach?” Zip said.

Tellman laughed, nodding.

“Who knows Ms Gregano, who knows?” Tellman retorted.

Zip then hefted the metallic suit Ovno had made over the edge of the strange Hawker Typhoon and fell into the swirling abyss that seemed to make up the time fissure. That was the last time Krugler would see Zip Gregano. He would have to wait eight-hundred Earth years to see her again.

Krugler looked at Tellman. Tellman shrugged, his cheroot seemed to ignite without Tellman using a lighter or a match. Krugler thought his liquid vision was playing up on him.

“I’m going to have to drop you off, too,” said Tellman.

“Why can’t I stay with you, Tommy?”

“You can’t, Kruggy. I’m not really here. It’s all some kind of freaky hallucinogenic projection. I’m split in places all over the place. I’m a very fragmented old man, Mr Krugler,” Tellman explained.

It was not much of an explanation. He just hoped time clicked together and it all made sense in the end. Tellman just wanted to witness the gradual death of capitalist systems imprisoning democratic values.

As Krugler pondered what Tommy Tellman meant, Tellman saluted at Krugler in his jar and vanished – along with the strange Hawker Typhoon. Krugler then realized he was dropping. Krugler regretted not dropping too much in his youth – something had always held him back; he secretly wished he knew what was happening but Krugler was scared. All he had was his jar. Krugler dropped for an eternity; he was just waiting to be summoned. His descent through some kind of time continuum did little to stop him feeling horny, though…

17) THE REPTILIAN THEORY OF THE LIMBIC PROWL

Trogger was trapped by the Occultist Dolls. He smiled a thin zombie smile. Ludovic tried to contact with Trogger; the great mutated mind telepathically intertwining