fat?”
“Yes. Or more that he didn’t like fat people. No, come to think of it, it was you. Because you were so brilliant, he had to find a way to break you down.”
“Guess you’re right. Big loser.”
“Did it work?”
He stares at him.
“Sometimes. Especially when he called me fat in front of the entire class. Or when he forced me to do push-ups.” He grabs a spoon and they head to the lounge and sit down at the square table in front of the window that overlooks the garden.
“You’re not... still... affected by that? You’ve lost all of that weight. Got more muscles than me.”
“You bet I do. You’ve always been scrawny, though. Don’t think you’ll ever change.”
They both laugh.
“Don’t be so sure. Drew and I have been lifting.”
“Yeah? How much you benching?
Peter-John looks at him.
Straightens his face.
“45 pounds.”
Florian looks at him surprised.
“You pulling my leg right? I’m impressed.”
Peter-John grins.
“Okay, okay. It’s more like eleven... if I’m totally honest, probably four, four-and-a-half.”
“Every little bit helps. Just stick with it.”
He thinks to himself.
Takes a spoon to his mouth.
Takes a bite of bread.
“I don’t know, Peter-John. Sometimes I think I’m over it, sometimes I am not so sure. I guess you have had to be fat to understand. A fat person always remains a fat person in their heads, no matter how much weight they lose. It’s psychological I think. And when they get fat again, it’s I’m already fat, so what’s the extra weight going to do. We’re used to being fat.”
Peter-John looks at him.
“Weird.”
“Yeah.”
Peter-John stuffs the hole in the dough with baked beans and sausage and tops it all with some syrup. He takes a huge bite.
“Mmmmmmm. Really delicious. You make a mean plate, bro.”
He puts his fist in the air and Florian connects with his.
“Would have been better if I had some power. But since my ranting... you know how it’s been.”
He puts his plate down and sits back.
Stares at the ceiling.
“I wish we had another place, Pete.”
Sighs.
“I wish I understood better, what you all are… experiencing…”
Florian mimics his inverted commas as he says.
“Experiencing… you still don’t believe us, do you?”
He shrugs.
“I don’t understand, that’s all. Everything to me is logic. Logical. All this is too much… out… there.”
“Sceptics and their logic. With faithless eyes, you will never see the fire, even if it is right in front of you.”
He takes Peter-John’s plate and heads to the kitchen.
“Thanks, bro. That was awesome. I’ll be sure to be here for Thursday’s dinner meeting. I’m sure the food will be top notch.”
Florian returns.
“We’ll see. Perhaps we’ll have a fondue; less effort on my part, especially with the power problems.”
“Long as you make those Flowers-specials. I’m sure Drew will have them all if he has his way.”
They laugh.
“Who will be coming?”
“Everyone I think.”
He sighs.
“I hope.”
Florian stares at him.
“Why, what’s up?”
He thinks to himself.
Grins.
Frowns.
“Nothing.”
Florian shakes his head.
“I for one hope that Embeth comes. Mmmmmm uh.”
Peter-John laughs.
“You sweet on her, are you?”
“Can’t stop thinking about her. Exactly my kinda girl.”
“She talks waaaaaaaaaay too much. Does she ever stop to breathe?”
Peter-John teases.
“That’s what I enjoy about her. Her bubbliness. I love every word that comes from her mouth. And she doesn’t only talk like most girls do. Every word is with purpose and meaning. She is deep, without being sentimental or sad or dramatic or over the top. I can’t describe it. I simply love to hear her speak.”
“She does have a sweet voice; very girly.”
Florian agrees.
“Bet that she’s got a figure isn’t a bad thing either?”
“Not at all brother. Not at all.”
Peter-John thinks to himself.
Grins.
Frowns.
“Okay. Enough about Embeth. Tell me about the Nazis. Make a believer out of me.”
“Do we have to?”
“Please, Flowers. Tell me. I need to know.”
Florian stares at him.
Observes the anguished look on his face.
Mostly his eyes.
“You really want to understand this, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Florian sighs.
“It’s all over the internet. Why not do a search and find out for yourself.”
“If what… I forget her name now… the one with the white-blonde hair…”
“That small one? That looks like a doll? Can’t remember her name either.”
Peter-John shakes his head in agreement.
“Yes. If what she says is true, then I can’t trust what Google and the rest spits out. All could be bogus, or all even from them? Youtube is full of those trolls or whatever.”
Florian agrees.
“She’s right. Can’t trust everything. And yes, there are those that are apparently whistle-blowers, but are in actual fact only there to cause more confusion or deceit or quite simply to make all of the truth seem bogus too. For sceptics like you.”
Peter-John removes his glasses.
Rubs his eyes.
“I believe you. I trust your judgement. Besides, you have been researching this for years. You told me yourself you busted…” he shakes his head,” you know… for this. That’s why you are… experiencing… these things.”
“True. But I still don’t understand why it is so important… like it can’t wait. Nothing I say or do is going to change it.”
“It will. For me?”
“Why?”
“Drew.”
Florian looks at him.
Shakes his head like he finally understands.
“You doubt what Drew is telling you.”
He frowns and looks down.
“Not sure… yes.”
“I don’t know, Pete. I believe him. I have not had those experiences, but from what I have heard and witnessed, I have no reason to doubt him. And he ain’t crazy either.”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Peter-John agrees.
“But…”
“The gardening.”
Florian shakes his head.
“That will… yeah. I understand where you’re coming from. Mental issues… that sort of thing.”
“I don’t want to say it like that, but, basically, yeah.”
“Well, if what I have seen through the years with people that garden and those that do dangling carrots… they… somehow tamper with the veil that is there… the veil that hides them from us.”
Observing Peter-John’s look of scepticism he continues.
“But yeah. Mental things are tricky stuff. A lot of the diagnosis is only opinion and is very much dependant on the person’s state of mind, whereabouts and general physical health and condition. But I ain’t no head doctor.”
“But you’re a research expert. Share with me.”
Florian grins.
“Well, since we are on the topic… we might as well get on with it.”
“That’s what I want to hear. What’s this got to do with that? The gardening I mean?
Florian shakes his head.
“Gardening in a minor way. More the blu
e violets and pink orchids variety.”
“Okay. Tell me more.”
Florian sighs.
“It’s not good, bro. In humane is what it is.”
“What?”
“These… experiments… if one can call them that. Torture is more appropriate.”
Peter-John listens.
“From witnesses, that no one believes of course, it is all very terrible.”
He gets off the sofa and starts pacing.
Looks out the window.
Sun was starting to set.
He leans against the wall.
Starts.
“Sleep deprivation, exposure to long periods of absolute darkness, some talk of exposure to cold for long periods. That’s the… I don’t know… not so terrible I suppose.”
He sighs.
“Others talk of eating and drinking their own… you know.” He goes pale.
Peter-John stares at him in disbelief.
“Seriously?”
“That’s what they say… absolutely gross.”
“Nasty.”
“Yes. That or they are left without food and water for extended periods. All in an effort to disorientate them. Make them physically and mentally weak.”
Peter-John doesn’t say a thing.
Florian continues.
“Anyway… there are the more… physical things…”
He goes and takes his seat again.
Shrugs.
Faces Peter-John.
“Sexual abuse. Physical torture. Dislocating the bones at the joints and scaring the hell out of them so that when they try to fight back, or resist, they can’t.”
He swallows.
“All in an attempt to make them feel helpless, that there is nothing they could do to change their situation. They are at the mercy of the… torturers.”
“Awful.”
“A real shame.”
He goes quiet for a moment.
Then starts.
“Some say that they are forced to look at screens depicting grotesque violence, murder, torture… everything bad… Forced to watch. When listening to them, one gets the idea that their eyelids are forced to stay open.”
“You say this happened to the Jews, especially the children?”
“My theory and gut tells me so. We know of the blonde hair, blue eyes obsession. It’s a part of that, I suspect.”
“Thought there couldn’t be anything worse than those camps, as we see and read about.”
“That’s nothing compared to this if you believe it; which I do.”
Peter-John admires his look of confidence.
Starts.
“Anything else?”
Florian thinks.
Then.
“Electrocution. Same as they do for apparent,” he does inverted commas with his hands, “schizophrenics. Electroshock therapy is what they call it, I think.”
“Beautiful Mind type of thing?”
“Exactly. I agree with that dude though, he is not crazy. Probably another victim.”
He can’t read Peter-John.
Continues.
“They are of course forced to take drugs. LSD. Intravenously. Some say it puts them in a state of some sort…”
Peter-John frowns.
‘What is the point of all of it?”
“To break them down… some say it is to fracture the mind into different pieces. This can be achieved through horrible trauma. The more trauma, the more the mind breaks to different pieces. This as a defence mechanism, to protect the person from remembering the trauma. The mind blocks the trauma away… compartmentalises… it. The person might never even know these compartments exist. These… pieces… can then be used to program… control… filled with information… and the person will never even be aware of it.”
He shrugs.
“If you ask me, it allows them to take hold of them.”
“The Annunaki? The Nordics? The… blonde… ones?
He shakes his head.
“It’s not aliens at all.”
“Then what?”
“If you don’t believe, then what I say won’t matter.”
Peter-John shakes his head.
“Tell me.”
Florian sighs.
Gets up.
“Demons.”
He heads to the kitchen.
Peter-John quickly behind him.
“Again with the devil?”
He shakes his head.
“You wanted to know. So that’s what I think. Others believe it is simply some personality that is programmed into them… like loading data onto a hard drive… The series dollhouse explains it. I still don’t understand that so well. That’s why I think my theory is more… acceptable… to me.”
Peter-John shrugs.
Removes his glasses and starts.
“But that still doesn’t explain what it has to do with them. This was the Nazis and the world wars. What have they got to do with this?”
“Everything.”
Peter-John looks more confused.
“But how?”
He smiles.
Shakes his head.
Sighs.
“The Nazis never disappeared. They simply went underground and moved to America.”
Peter-John looks surprised.
“What are you saying?”
He shrugs.
Coughs.
“I’m saying they started experimenting on the American people.”
“What?”
“Joined forces with the bankers, shadow government, CIA and Walt Disney and others. I believe one of the earliest victims to be Marilyn Monroe. JFK was going to expose all of this, and this… control… is but a small piece of the puzzle, that’s why he was murdered. That whole story about the assassination is bogus.”
ج
#Shhhhh