Igor stepped into the elevator, and after studying the various illuminated readouts on the inside of the elevator, Igor quickly found the floor the cafeteria was, pressed the appropriate button, and headed upwards.
Before the elevator could deposit Igor on the third level, where the cafeteria was, it had stopped on the second and allowed entrance to a man who wore an aluminum foil hat and had eyes that seemed to be intently focused on something in front of him that simply didn't exist. Every movement he made looked as if he was a marionette being controlled by a jittery and inexperienced puppeteer.
The Puppet Man made the exact, exaggerated walking motion with all three steps he took, then both legs fell quickly in place on the floor, and he immediately turned around. He then moved his upper body in a dramatic turn to the right to look at Igor, and stated in an electronic voice “SIXTH FLOOR PLEASE.”
Igor pressed the appropriate button, and as the door began to close, he decided to involve this odd man in conversation.
“Igor famished. Igor also new employee. What good here?”
The Puppet Man's eyes intently focused eyes looked beyond Igor and replied “TRY THE PISTACHIO. IT IS BOTH HEALTHY AND HELPS FIGHT THE ALIEN OVERLORDS.”
“What wrong with you? Brain upside down?”
The Puppet Man continued to stare at Igor as the doors to the third floor cafeteria swept by, and Igor simply stepped out into the most astonishingly brightly lit white room he'd ever come across. It had the appearance of having been sanitized to a point past insanity. No one was in line, and in fact it turns out that no one was preparing food. Igor did manage to find a menu, so he took it and considered its vast array of meals: all of them included pistachio ice cream. At the top of the menu there was a declaration -- All Members Must Eat Their Pistachio Ice Cream.
As Igor continued to study the non-ice cream sections of the menu, the elevator dinged and a very worried young woman came scrambling out. She looked around, seemed to find no sense of refuge, then looked at Igor.
“Please, for the love of god, you've got to help me.”
“What can Igor do for pretty girl?”
A message, much like telepathy, came across the girl's cerebral structure and she collapsed in pain. The message went like this: “Come on, baby we just want you to join! It's just like getting a discount card at Books A Million, except you don't save ten percent on your purchases! What matters is that you belong!!!”
“Leave me alone you bastard!”
Igor looked around, very confused. Then turned back to his menu, when she reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, pleading tears in her eyes.
“Don't let them take me! Please!”
Behind them, the hum of the elevator started approaching the third floor again. Tommy, her intended, was coming.
“Pretty girl hide. Igor handle this.”
As she hid within the cafeteria workstations, Igor turned back to his menu as the elevator doors opened and out stepped an impeccably dressed, short, angry man. Tommy, the Grand Lesser Mystic, eyed the violently white room carefully, then stepped up to Igor.
“And who are you?”
“Igor. Are you big movie star?”
“I am.”
“Igor thought so.”
Igor then kicked Tommy, and sent the A-List jackass flying into the walls of the cafeteria. “That for messing up Mission Impossible.”
Momentarily stunned, Tommy brought himself up to his full three foot stature and demanded the location of his wife.
“Igor don't know. Celebrities don't look same in real life. Is it true camera adds two feet to your appearance?”
Tommy just stood there fuming.
“Igor thought so. How's the pistachio?”
“If you see my wife, tell her I'm looking for her.”
“She looking for you too. Likely can't see you down there. Bye, bye.”
The rest of the day passed without incident. The young woman, ever so grateful for Igor's role in her escape, joined Igor down in the brainwashing basement, and they sat and chatted for a while. She talked of how she met Tommy, and even pointed out which brain was his amongst the jars of Igor's workstation.
“Wait, this Tommy's brain?”
“Yeah. He took me down here yesterday, to show it off.”
“It such big brain.”
“Don't kid yourself Igor, it's been inflated by unnatural means.”
“How?”
“My guess is the genetically modified Pistachio ice cream played a role, but most of it's just cerebral implants, ego and compensation for having such a tiny dick.”
“But...if this Tommy's brain, how Tommy function in real world?”
“This is how.”
Igor was amazed to see the young woman leap to an illuminated work station, enter a short series of numbers into the display, and hit the ACTIVATE button. In the center of the room, rising slowly from the floor, came an immensely complicated control station with what appeared to be a brain on an advanced life support system. The brain itself was turning a sickly green color, and floated there in a somber sense of approaching death.
“Igor...this is Almighty Steve.”
And she relayed the story of how, in his final moments, Almighty Steve had designed the iLive. Wazinkski had been put in charge of constructing the iLive, while his subordinates had calculated and designed the vast move from their home planet to Earth. The Jhew Alliance had been originally led to believe it successfully ran Adolph Industries from their planet, and although it was true in a sense, the creation of the iLive and the preservation of Almighty Steve was the ultimate reason his descendents got the hell out of there.
And the story continued, about how certain restructuring and addition of various non-terrestrial elements to Earth's common aluminum foil had been utilized in blocking the basic radio signals sent by the Jhew Alliance. Then came the sudden development of smart phone technology, what they call Conversation-Makey's, and all members of the Temple of Scienceology had similar technology implanted into their cerebral mass, but only after they had been accustomed to and indeed demanded the presence of over priced phone technology that, oddly enough became obsolete in less than two years, allowing for the Scienceologists to put out newer models at even higher prices with the double effect of enslaving the human race and ensuring an enormous amount of everlasting research funds.
“But Igor still no know what it have to do with Tommy.”
And she continued -- “Upon reaching a certain level of initiation, the Scienceologists have their brains removed, and a shiny new one that was an identical clone genetically, but enhanced with their native Conversation-Makey technology. The aluminum foil has been worn on the initiate's heads to keep the Jhew Alliance out, while the new brain uses high speed communication lines to mimic telepathy. And all of those signals are channeled into Almighty Steve, so he can feel the love of the Scienceologists and all those who own a smart-phone. It's always been an alien invasion dedicated to enslaving the Earth and restoring Adolph Industries and its glorious founder to power!”
“How come pretty girl know all this?”
“It's in their pamphlet.”
She picked one of the many pamphlets laying around the basement and showed it to him.
“How come Igor not see this before?”
From within the darkened corners of the basement, Igor thought he'd heard a small Arf! echoing off the walls. Igor looked again, and noticed tiny markings as if a small animal had been chewing on the pamphlets.
“Doesn't matter. We have to get out of here.”
“But Igor have job here.”
“Then there's only one thing I can ask of you, Igor.”
* * * * *
As good as things were for Igor, Victor realized he was having female troubles. Five hundred pounds of them, to be exact. In a soft pink, stretched to the seams piece of lingerie nearly half the size of a full moon, Bertha traipsed none too lightly across the circus grounds, in horny pursuit of her beloved funny clown.
Thankfully, for Victor's sake, the soft flutter of sweet nothings one would normally utter was a throaty growl from Bertha, which gave Victor a good thirty second head start.
And he ran for his life.
“Ohhh funny clown! Where are you?”
Pressed up against a tent and hiding amongst the shadows cast in the near dark, Victor trembled like a baby bunny emerging from its den for the very first time. He had abandoned the big floppy shoes because those would most certainly give him away. Victor moved along the edge of the tent, not noticing it was the communal shower setup, felt for the half open flap and fell in head first.
Sally's scream caused him to hide by attempting to wrap himself up in the flapping fabric at the tent's opening.
“What the hell are you doing, spying on me like this? You sick fucking pervert!”
“Sally?”
Victor emerged gently from his entanglement, and finally noticed how the flow from one running shower head cast its spray upon a definite form of feminine nature, complete with drops gently flowing Sally's ample breasts which, although unseen, painted a picture of absolute certainty of what Victor was observing. It took a moment for him to snap out of it.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry Sally! I didn’t see you in here!”
“GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, YOU PERVERT!”
For a moment, the sensual cascading of water remained in the spray, and then disappeared as the water was shut off. The only notion of movement from Sally, besides the direction from which her voice came, was in the fashion her bath towel floated in the air and headed malevolently towards Victor.
“I swear, I didn’t know you were in there!”
“Don’t give me that Can’t-See-The-Invisible-Woman bullshit! You knew I was in here!”
“Sally, please, keep your voice down.”
“Why?”
“Bertha's after me.”
“I know,” she replied.
“She invited me over for a game of Twister, then said she'd cuddle me!”
“I know.” This time the response hung in the air, and Sally's sadistic smile was damn near visible from the glow of vengeance that Sally was emanating.
“What do you mean you know?”
“I put her up to it.”
“You WHAT?”
“She likes you.”
“Well I don't like her! Please, you've got to hide me.”
A few remaining drops of water slowly cascaded down Sally's transparent form, and found the curve of Sally's breasts. She was standing very, very close to him, as a few drops fell upon Victor's hands. And she seemed to be leaning in closer.
“It's too late for that,” Sally purred in a whisper.
“Why do you say that?”
“IN HERE, BERTHA!”
The ferocity of the scream caused Victor to drop to his knees in pure terror.
“No, Sally please no!”
“Happy cuddling, lover.”
Victor's wide eyes scanned frantically for where Sally was as she threw her bath towel upon him, which he used to cover himself with as a last minute means of protection. He cowered under it for a whole five second before Bertha found it and ripped it off him.
“There you are! Naughty clown! Thought you could escape! No more hide and seek! Now we play kinky sex game!”
Bertha then grabbed up Victor by his feet, and started dragging him caveman style back to her tent. Once inside, she then lifted him off the ground and attempted to lightly place him upon her bed.
“Sing for Bertha!”
“Why?”"
“Okay, kinky sex game instead. I'll be the Nookie Monster.”
Desperate to stall her, Victor declared “Sing! I'll sing! What do you want me to sing?”
Bertha smiled, and whispered into Victor's ear her song of choice. It only caused further horror for poor Victor.
“Oh hell no. I'm not singing that.”
“Okay. Here come Nookie Monster.”
“FINE! Fine, I'll do it!”
“Good. Then come Nookie Monster.”
“...Fat bottomed girls you make the rocking world go round...” screeched Victor.
“Louder!”
* * * * *
It had been mere moments since Katie had made her escape from the tiny action star and the cult he served as second in command of. She had given Igor the jamming device she had learned of through her one and only communication with The Jhew Alliance, via payphone at a local pizzeria.
The Jhews had instructed her on how to build a means of interrupting Adolph Industries ground based communications systems, and why it was of extreme importance to follow their instructions. As they Jhews relayed the basic schematics of what they termed "The Jammer," to her, she quickly interrupted them for a moment.
"Oh, we've got those on Earth."
"Really? Your society is that advanced after all?"
"Well, yeah. But we don't call them 'jammers,' we call 'em 'hammers.'"
"Good enough," was the reply from the Jhews. "Smash away, dear. Smash away."
And upon her next visit to the Temple of Scienceology, while Tommy was considering his next fast paced, high profile action movie from fellow member Jay Jay Abraham, Katie snuck away and applied the metal jammer to the necessary junction on the neon signage.
It was Igor's father that ultimately realized what damage had been done earlier this particular day, and the counter-invasion was a go.
* * * * *
Quitting time came, and although he expected the Grand High Mystic to offer him a pleasant evening at the end of his first working day, Igor came across no one. Stepping outside of the front doors, Igor sighed and looked up at the sky. The honking of a car horn interrupted his brief recollection of all that was said in his basement. Momma Igor waved to her son.
“How work?”
“It good. Igor met famous movie stars.”
“Good for you.”
"Why Igor have hammer?"
Igor, desperate for a lie to cover up all that he'd learned today, ended up telling the truth.
"Igor need it for work, apparently."
As Igor got into the family car, he took one last look up at the flickering neon sign on top of the temple. Although part of the sign continued to malfunction, Igor knew that it spoke the truth.
Temple of Scienceology -- A Cult.
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