The following interview took place in a public park in Washington DC. The subject contacted me, asking to be interviewed because of the important information he had regarding the shape-shifting parasitic inter-dimensional lizards and the situation at the Delaware Turnpike Mobil. However, the subject asked to remain anonymous for fear of reprisal.
The Shadow: So, what information do you have for me?
M: Information enough. I was under lizard control for several years.
The Shadow: What were the effects of that?
M: The effects were completely debilitating. I was a shell of a person.
The Shadow: Meaning what, exactly?
M: Well, the first thing that started to happen was I lost control of my motor skills. This was years ago, when I worked at the Mobil.
The Shadow: I see. You worked there for a long time?
M: Yeah. I even quit once, but I was forced to return. But let me continue. My story is important, and if they see me here with you they might try to get me back. Anyway, I lost control over my motor skills. I would shake uncontrollably. At times I would put my hands in my pockets to try to hide it, but my keys and change would start jingling. It was ridiculous. Then there was the breathing.
The Shadow: What happened to your breathing?
M: Well, I would start breathing erratically, sort of reverse snorting, like there was something up my nose. I think what it amounts to is that the lizards don't take in as much oxygen as people, so they were sort of forcing it back out. I don't know, I'm no herpetologist, but that's what it felt like. Like they were forcing my breath back out of me. The Shadow: What other effects were there?
M: There was the uncontrollable anger. I was crazed, a lunatic. I couldn't do anything to control the rage that overtook me. It was like a psychotic episode that would come on for virtually no reason, and I would simply explode. And then there were the personal side effects.
The Shadow: Such as?
M: Well, they wanted me concentrated on Mobil at all times. That was very important for them. They need someone to be meticulous about the upkeep there at Mobil at all times. I was the object at that point. I couldn't function if things weren't exactly perfect at all times. It was like, if there was a cigarette butt half a mile away I had to pick it up. Even the way I parked had to be exactly accurate. It was like they didn't want anything obscuring the way the place looked from above. I even went on top of the kiosk to clean the roof off a few times.
The Shadow: What's so personal about that?
M: Well, at home I couldn't do anything but think about Mobil. All day, all night. I had dreams about the place, I thought about it all my waking hours. I couldn't even watch TV. The only thing they'd let me watch was wrestling and the Crocodile Hunter. They love that guy. They're always hoping he'll get killed on camera.
The Shadow: Why wrestling?
M: It's good for their ratings.
The Shadow: Ratings?
M: Yeah, Vince McMahon's a lizard. Most of the wrestlers are, too. That's why they're so angry and always screaming. All wrestlers are former gas station attendants.
The Shadow: Damn. I had no idea.
M: But they wouldn't even let me buy a VCR. I had a chair, a bed, a TV, a lamp, and some old clothes that I'd had since the early 1970s. That was it. Bare walls. It was crazy. I hadn't been laid since before the end of the cold war. Things were bad for me. Until I finally got out.
The Shadow: How'd you manage that?
M: Well, they put me on the night shift. Once they did that, everything was got easier.
The Shadow: Why's that?
M: Well, they'd accidentally fall asleep while they were trying to control me. Then I could think about how completely insane I was acting. I thought that if I left quick enough, I could get out while they were sleeping. So when I heard the voice snoring, I jetted out. I even took myself out of the computer system to make sure I couldn't go back no matter what the voices said.
The Shadow: Well, why doesn't it affect everyone else who works night shift?
M: Because they all sleep so much it doesn't have time to fuck with them. But not me. I could never sleep there. I was devoted. But after they put me on night shift, things changed and I took action and left there as fast as I could just like any self respecting person would. Then I was out, and life started to return to normal.
The Shadow: What do you mean?
M: Well, I updated my wardrobe for one. I regained muscular control, I stopped hearing the voice after a few days.
The Shadow: What was the last thing it said?
M: The last thing? I think it said "fuck you" or something.
The Shadow: Any idea who the voice was?
M: It was definitely a lizard.
The Shadow: How do you figure?
M: It was constantly talking about the cold. And telling lizard jokes.
The Shadow: Did it say any names?
M: I asked it what its name was one time. It told me its name was Mr. Goofy, and that it lived in the back register.
The Shadow: I see. So, how are you doing now? Is everything normal again?
M: Oh, yeah. I got a DVD player and stuff. I'm doing really well. But I'm worried.
The Shadow: About what?
M: The other people there. Everyone who works there gets fucked up. It starts with the anger, and it builds from there. They just start getting weird. Like, for example, they'll spit on the birds, or they'll start having weird conversations about conspiracies. It's like they can sense it in the air that something's going on, so the conspiracy talks set in. But the more controlled you are the more you make fun of it. That's how it goes there; the lizards will feed you great lines about the conspiracy believers. That's what to look for. The ones who make fun. All the jokers. They're starting to be controlled, and as soon as they're under, they'll be devoted. But the rest of them are in danger. All of those people are in danger of being taken over.
The Shadow: What happens then?
M: I'm not really sure. I think it has something to do with an event that they only referred to indirectly.
The Shadow: They? There was more than one voice?
M: Well, they had to change shifts so someone was watching me at all times. They would joke around a little and talk about this event.
The Shadow: How did they talk about it?
M: They'd say weird things like, "I can't wait until the shit comes down. So few of them will be ready." Then they'd say something like, "I hate this fucking place. I'm getting the fuck out of here," and one of them would leave.
The Shadow: What would the other one do?
M: Read pro lizard propaganda out loud. Tell me to do Mobil stuff. Sometimes they'd listen to Art Bell.
The Shadow: Well, is there anything left to be said, anything specific you wanted to say?
M: Just that it's dangerous there. Tell all those people, you've got to tell them all to get out or they'll lose their minds like I did. I think I was a special case because they had greater control over me than anyone, but now that I'm gone they need someone like me. It's only a question of who's next. They've already got some of them. There're at least three people there who've left before and keep getting drawn back in. It's like they've got their claws in these people already, and it's only a matter of time. Before long one or all of them will take my place. I mean, look at the station. I've driven by, and you can tell from the highway that it's falling apart. It always looked shitty, but it looks really bad now. Listen, that's all I've got time for. But just make sure you tell those people they've got to leave. They won't be able to resist much longer. They'll be taken over sooner than they might imagine.
