Bad Luck Black Money (20 page)

See, I'm personally responsible for the slaughtering of Native Americans, Confederate slavery, global warming, third-world poverty, and the list goes on and on.... Most of that stuff happened over a hundred years before I was born, but somehow I'm still guilty because of the color of my skin. If I believed any of their propaganda, I'd probably have blown my brains out, years ago. But I don't believe in any of the shit they're selling.

You're lucky, Hans. You have a country that you seem to believe in. You share a common bloodline with your fellow countrymen. You have your own language and over a thousand years worth of history. And thanks to an abhorrent eugenics program, which we will speak no more of; Germany has more than its share of hot, blonde-haired, blue-eyed chicks.

What do I have in America? Class warfare, court ordered reverse racism, a dumbed down populace, and a government-mandated race to the bottom.... I'm out, man. I'm out, if somebody can fix it then good for them, but I'm done.

Maybe I'll move to Germany and give some of your hotter women a few Hopenhammer babies. What do you think about that?"

"With the millions, probably billions, possibility even a trillion dollars that you're about to make. It should be easy for you. Plus, you're a very handsome man."

Diamond looked at Hans to see if the older man was making a pass at him, but he couldn't be sure.

Their ride to the airport was silent and uneventful.

Chapter 27

Esmerelda and Boss waited patiently at their private airport. Duke Winterfield was sending his secretary Thomas Ridge to pick them up in his private jet and whisk them away to their destination in England. They would be attending their first New World Order meeting.

Boss was looking at the Rolex Daytona strapped on his wrist (the same watch he had taken from his son, Diamond), when Esmerelda spotted the plane. It looked like an ordinary Airbus 380. They were expecting something more exotic, but that was the plane, which landed.

The airliner's door opened, and Thomas waved a greeting to them. When the passenger boarding stairs were driven up to the plane, they were too short to reach the doorway. A container loader was commandeered from a nearby flight hangar, and Boss and Esmerelda were lifted up to the plane's door.

Thomas apologized profusely, "I am so sorry for having you ride on the lift like luggage. Your corporate jets are tiny in comparison to this aircraft. It never crossed my mind to send the proper boarding stairs ahead of time. The fault is entirely mine."

"Don't worry about it," said Boss as he picked out an overstuffed, leather recliner by a window to sit in. "No harm done."

Esmerelda sat beside Boss and stated, "I'm rather surprised that such a common airliner is the plane the Duke chose to send for our flight. I thought you'd arrive in at least a Concorde."

Smiling, Thomas took a seat, facing them so he could talk with the couple. "Oh, there is more to this plane than ‘neath the eyes."

Thomas pressed a button beside his chair and said, "We're ready anytime, Captain."

"Rodger that," replied the pilot, and then the plane began taxiing down the runway.

"We couldn't send a plane that would draw undue attention. The last thing we want is for a bunch of Gomers to start taking pictures and spreading gossip. The NWO finds it easier to have its way when the general populace is asleep.

When we get up to a high enough altitude, the plane will transform into a hypersonic space plane. The body elongates, the nose narrows into a cone, and the wings angle backwards and fan out. It's really something to see, or so I'm told. Sadly, we can't view the transformation from inside the plane. But you'll know it happened when we arrive across the Atlantic in under two hours."

"Two hours! Are you serious?" Esmerelda asked.

"I swear," Thomas answered. "And it would be a lot faster than that, if we didn't have to be so clandestine about the matter. The whole trip basically entails going up and coming down. We fly hypersonic for only a few minutes.... Would you like for the pilot to cut off the artificial gravity when we break free of the Earth's gravity? It's kind of like being an astronaut."

"What do you think, dear?" Boss asked.

"Remember, we don't go sailing on our yacht because you get seasick. Do you think it's really such a good idea to float about in space?"

"Yeah," Boss said. "We probably should keep the gravity on."

"I'll make a note of it, sir," responded Thomas.

"Exactly, how does the artificial gravity work?" asked Esmerelda. "Are you using some sort of electromagnetic field or what?"

"Ooh, I don't really know," stated Thomas. "And it would probably be best if no one started asking any technical questions from this point forward. Since, you are new members to the Order and considering your already vast, technical prowess, too many questions will make your fellow pod members... nervous.

In due time, you'll learn everything. But for now, it's probably best to just relax and enjoy the ride."

"Speaking of the ride, is now a good time to make use of the facilities, Thomas?" asked Esmerelda.

"Yes, ma’am," answered Thomas as he pushed a button for the stewardess, who almost instantly appeared.

"May I be of service?" asked the cute, Asian stewardess, who was dressed in a short, blue skirt with matching tight blouse.

"Yes. Please, show Mrs. Hopenhammer to the bathroom," ordered Thomas. Then he turned to Esmerelda and said, "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at the size of the bathroom. It's nothing like the cramped lavatories you find on ordinary planes."

"That's nice," said Esmerelda as she rose to her feet.

"And you'll be pleased to know that Nomi, here, gives one of the world's best massages. There's a massage table in there if you choose to partake."

"That would be lovely," responded Esmerelda. She walked away with the tiny stewardess, who had placed her hand gently on the lower back of the taller, orange-haired lady.

Once the women were out of earshot, Thomas said, "Nomi will take care of you, too, if you'd like. And she isn't shy about making sure you have a happy ending, if you get my drift."

"Thanks, Thomas. But no, thanks. Esmerelda has a knack for reading me. I guess it’s a combination of being around me for so many years and reading lots of behavioral psychology books. I'd like to stay married AND keep my balls attached."

"Say no more, sir. I'm sorry I suggested it. Across the pond a little 'rub and tug' is no big deal. Things appear to be different here in America. You chaps seem to think that showing a lady's bare breasts on the tele, equates to the end of the world, as we know it. Nevertheless, I felt obliged to inform you, just in case, you wanted to indulge."

"Oh, I want to, but I'm not going to. I'll be thinking about it though, next time I'm giving it hard to the wife."

"About that, sir, would you mind terribly if I were to ask you a very personal question?"

"Nah, shoot."

"Have you recently had any BIG changes in your love life?"

"Not really, I do have a lot more energy than I used to. Esmerelda also seems to be a lot more demanding in the bedroom than she used to. I mean, she's always wanted the sausage more than a normal woman, but now she REALLY wants the good lovin'. Instead of a lollypop, she wants an all-day sucker. And the really crazy part is that I'm up for it most of the time.... I never used to be up for it."

"It's the food," stated Tom. "Your body is slowly detoxifying from the garbage you used to eat and drink. The fun part is that you're only halfway to becoming completely clean. In a few more months, you won't even recognize yourself. The same goes for your wife."

"Interesting," mused Boss.

"Oh, there's more. Your body will reach a certain point in the cleansing process where your penis will grow at least three more inches in length and one more inch in girth. From my understanding, you'll have to deal with the extra inches both when you're flaccid and hard."

"No fucking way!"

"I kid you not. I thought it best to inform you before it happens, so you don't freak out."

"Talk about an early Christmas present. Esmerelda is going to be on cloud nine... Well, cloud seven and a half to be exact."

"Good for her, sir."

"I know about the surgery that pulls the dick out from its base within the body. It's supposed to give a man a few more inches. Is that what's happening with the diet? It's somehow freeing up the whole thing?"

"No, sir. What your specialized diet is doing is eliminating all the free radical damage done to your body over a lifetime. And when unaltered, healthy foods are combined in the right combinations, they purge some genetic weaknesses.

Penis size is primarily due to genetics with minor environmental influences. So, in the process of your body completely healing itself, BAM! Your penis gets bigger."

"Wow," said a stunned Boss. "That is awesome.... Say, what would happen if I were to get the bigger penis surgery in addition to eating the NWO food?"

"Provided that the surgery was a success then you would have to deal with at least four more inches in addition to the extra three, which your diet is going to bestow upon you. The psychological implications of dragging around a penis that large are staggering.... Do you really want an appendage that massive, sir?"

"What? No, I was just thinking out loud. I would never put my wife through something like that. The poor girl would be traumatized, and not trying to be too graphic, but also pulverized."

After a few moments of awkward silence, Thomas said, "It might be a bit anticlimactic, but with continued healthy eating, your eyesight should improve, your energy level will continue to go through the roof, old scars will heal, etcetera."

"Great."

"Your wife is in for some interesting changes, as well."

"Really? Such as?"

"Well, the thing that will effect you the most is her pheromones."

"Pheromones, like an animal in heat?"

"Precisely, when the junk clears out of her system, she'll produce a chemical attractant that will have some affect on you and every other man around her."

"Esmerelda... my wife... the woman who just went to the bathroom, SHE is going to become irresistible?"

"Sir, I never used the word 'irresistible'. But she will become more desirable. Men aren't going to lose all restraint and jump on top of her. And it's not like she's going to turn into a supermodel and then be dropped naked in the middle of a maximum-security prison.

But with continued access to NWO food, Mrs. Boss will become better and better looking as genetic and environmental damages are corrected."

Realizing that he'd just inadvertently insulted the wife of the NWO member, who was sitting directly in front of him, Thomas Ridge started to sweat profusely and shaking slightly.

"Not that I'm implying that Mrs. Hopenhammer isn't a lovely woman already. She is... quite lovely in her own way. And by 'her own way', I mean that she IS pretty."

Boss burst out in laughing and said, "Calm down, I know what you meant. 'It's all good', as they say."

"Thank you, sir," said Thomas as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. "And if I may be so bold as to give you a word of advise, please, don't say 'it's all good' in front of his Dukedom.

The Duke of Winterfield gets angry when one of his pod uses language meant for the masses. Basically, anything politically correct sets him off. A few examples are: 'think of the children', 'cultural diversity', 'handicapable', and any kind of hyphenated American. There are others, which I cannot think of right now, but you get the gist of it?"

"Got it," Boss said as he looked out the window. The sky was turning darker. "No PC around the Duke."

Chapt
er 28

After landing at the Duke's private runway on the outskirts of Shropshire, Thomas ushered Boss and Esmerelda to the Duke's nearby castle. It dated from 100 A.D. when the Duke's ancestors drove the indigenous Druids into the sea. During World War II, the Winterfield Estate was off limits to the Luftwaffe, for reasons only known to the Winterfield family.

While charming in an old, English kind of way, the castle's interior was rather boring and uninspired. Esmerelda tried to keep her opinions to herself for as long as she could. But that ended when Thomas escorted them into an old library, which smelled of cigars and cognac.

"OK," spouted Esmerelda. "I'm officially under whelmed. Can we skip to the part where you wow us? Like maybe, there's a solid gold room where unicorns graze on ambrosia? Wow, me!"

"Now that you ask," said Thomas as he walked over to an antique, mahogany desk, slid a secret panel aside, and pressed a glowing blue button amidst a panel of buttons, which covered most of the colors in a rainbow.

Bookshelves loaded with leather bound books, moved forward, shifted to the side, and then repeated their motion like a folding, paper fan. Layers of rock started moving slowly upward, behind an observation wall made of glass.

"We're in an elevator?" exclaimed Boss.

"Yes," answered Thomas with a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"Is the whole castle going down or just the room?" Boss asked.

"Only the library is moving, dear," answered Esmerelda. "You can tell because we're surrounded by countless tons of rocks on all four sides."

"Yeah, I knew that," said Boss.

"Of course, you did, dear."

"How far down are we?" asked Boss.

"I'm not exactly sure, sir. But I've heard we go further down than the deepest diamond mine in South Africa."

"We should be burning up," stated Esmerelda.

"We would be, madam. If the structure weren't somehow using the Earth's heat to power our climates control systems."

"The ultimate renewable resource," said Boss. "Wait a second, what if there's an earthquake? We'll all be squished like bugs."

"Not likely, Mr. Hopenhammer. The earth will just shift around us, leaving this structure unscathed."

"Boloney," Esmerelda said. "Shifting tectonic plates would smash this place flatter than a pancake."

"You would be correct, if this subterranean manor was built using today's technology, ma'am. But we have our own scholars and scientists. New World Order technology is leap years beyond anything you'll find in the outside world.

That reminds me. Should you have a medical emergency, contact one of our NWO approved doctors. You do not want an ordinary quack, practicing medicine on you. Actually, you would be better off seeing a witchdoctor than your regular doctor. I'll hook you up.

Oops, that's another phrase you'll want to avoid. Please, don't say 'hook you up' in front of the Duke. He'll go ballistic."

The elevator stopped its descent into the fiery bowels of the Earth, when they reached the top level of the NWO stronghold. Looking through the elevator's glass walls, they could see other people in the distance, on the other side of a gigantic chasm. When Boss looked down into the abyss, he couldn't see the bottom. It was, as if, twin tower skyscrapers had been dropped down into the center of the Earth.

Thomas said that the middle floors were several miles in circumference. And though they appeared to be at the precipice of a rectangular monolith, they were actually standing on top of the largest spherical structure in the world.

Boss and Esmerelda didn't get to marvel at the scenery for long, before Thomas pressed another button, which dropped the room-sized elevator down to the correct floor. They followed Thomas through a maze of passageways that eventually opened up into a coliseum. If they hadn't known better, they would have sworn that they'd been transported though time and space, back to ancient Rome.

Over a hundred private viewing boxes were filled with people dressed in togas, lounging around. Thomas guided Boss and Esmerelda to the biggest box, where the Duke of Winterfield wore the only red toga in a sea of white. He wore a golden crown of wreaths upon his head, and was being fed grapes by a beautiful, young lady dressed in near transparent clothing.

"Milton!" exclaimed the Duke as he got to his feet, almost pushing the serving girl down to the floor in the process. "Welcome to my humble home. I trust your trip across the pond was pleasant."

"Indeed it was," answered Boss, shaking the Duke's hand. "Allow me to introduce my wife, Esmerelda."

"The beautiful Esmerelda," said the Duke as he kissed her hand. "I have been wanting to meet you for so long. And now, here you are in the flesh."

"It's good to make your acquaintance, Duke Winterfield," Esmerelda said, blushing slightly. "I feel a bit overdressed. No one told us that you were having a toga party."

"My dear girl," the Duke said as he took Esmerelda by her hand and started walking toward a stairway, which led down to a sand pit in the center of the arena. "You are dressed perfectly for the purpose at hand. Everything has been planned, and everything is going according to plan.

Milton, follow us."

Thoughts of Christians being fed to the lions, danced around in Boss's brain, but he dared not question the Duke. He walked a couple of paces behind the Duke and Esmerelda, who were still holding hands. Thomas Ridge was making his way toward an exit, along with all the other servants.

Once the Duke, Esmerelda, and Boss set foot on the sandy floor of the arena, the coliseum went deadly silent. The only people left in the amphitheater were members of the New World Order. They numbered one hundred forty-three. Nobody dared make a sound, not even a cough, as the Duke was about to speak.

"Men and women of the New World Order," said the Duke in a booming voice, which didn't need a microphone to amplify it. "I know of the rumors circulating among you that new people will be joining the Order. Well, the rumors are correct. Standing before you are two people deemed worthy of joining your ranks.

Some of you may know this man from his business dealings. He built a mega corporation from scratch, using nothing more than the sweat of his brow and the massive brain inside his head. He is Milton Van Hopenhammer!"

Cheers erupted from the viewing boxes and reverberated off the stone works, making it sound as if a thousand people filled the coliseum, instead of the fewer than two hundred, who were actually in attendance.

The Duke waited for the cheers to abate, before continuing. "And this is Esmerelda Hopenhammer. She is the driving force behind the Pluto Moon Technologies' research division. When a problems stump the world's greatest minds, she steps up and solves them.

And equally important, she hasn't lost her femininity in the process. Esmerelda works just as hard in the bedroom for her husband, Milton, as she does in the research laboratory."

Thundering applause erupted again from the NWO members. Esmerelda's face turned beet red in embarrassment. Boss looked at his wife, who was looking back at him. Then he looked at the ancient, wooden doors, reinforced with heavy metal bars that stood against the pit's far wall, and wondered if some beast or gladiator was going to burst through and kill them dead.

The applause lasted longer than the first time, and then the Duke spoke again. "It is a rare occasion that we grant membership to a new individual, much less two."

A low murmuring came from the seats above the pit. As the NWO members began to realize that their sacred membership had been granted to both Boss and Esmerelda. Usually, a wife came in under her husband's membership. Rarely, a husband fell under his wife's membership. But it was unheard of that a husband and wife would both be granted individual memberships. It was an occurrence, which hadn't happened in over a hundred years.

"Yes, my pod," boomed the Duke's voice. "Esmerelda has been given her own membership, independent of Milton. But you haven't heard the best part, yet.... All three of their children have also been granted full, individual memberships."

This time the murmuring became loud and brazen talking. A couple of pod members became so upset that they actually stood up.

"Sit your over-privileged asses down before I have you flogged!" yelled the Duke.

Instant silence enveloped the coliseum. Boss knew from his night at the Slutty Teasers that the Duke of Winterfield wasn't a man to be trifled with. And, evidently, the pod knew this as well.

"The free ride is over people," said the Duke, as a vein running across his forehead throbbed. "You don't get to drink and play and party and fuck, without consequences, anymore.

The end is nigh, motherfuckers!

We're right on the cusp of killing off, the hordes of wasted flesh and blood. And do you know why? Because we are merciful....

Do you hear that?" asked the Duke, as he put his hand up to his ear and continued speaking.

"The masses are begging for release from their pointless existence. They can only watch so many football games and eat so many greasy, fast foods and masturbate so much to hardcore pornography. Release them from their pain!

... Human beings are naked without their chains. Whether those are literal chains of iron or tangled webs of laws and regulations, it makes no difference. Mankind is only happy when in slavery.

Oh, they'll tell you that they want freedom and equal rights for all... but they don't. People want to be told what to do, and when and how to do it. They want someone else to blame for their lot in life. They cry, "It's not my fault. You did this to me. See how pitiful I am?"

If we are not going to tolerate sloth and ignorance from the masses, what makes you think that we'll tolerate it from you?

When the dust settles and the dead have finished rotting in the streets, you will have to rebuild the outside world in our image.

Look around you. All the people that you see are your competition. If you can't successfully compete and get left behind, then you will be dealt with, in the second culling.

I am not going to protect you. You are responsible for your own life. Many of you, should just go ahead and bow down and beg this man to spare your lives."

The Duke stretched out his arm, and pointed at Boss. "If you are lucky, maybe he won't castrate you and then wear your severed balls on a necklace. Personally, I would.

See, I am not going to be made to look like a chump by having the sorriest pod on the planet. That's why I've brought in this family of genius sociopaths. Even if all of you wilt away like delicate flowers in the hot, summer sun, these chainsaw killers will put my pod on the very top of the heap.

Enjoy today, because tomorrow these pit bulls are going to start chewing on your Chihuahua buttocks."