I decided to do my “Invisible City” map of the Taco Bueno across the street to the west of Oklahoma City University. I have been there very often. It is closer to my dorm than the cafeteria is.
On the surface, Taco Bueno is possibly less exotic or exciting than some of the places other students have chosen to map. The restaurant is not distinctive to Oklahoma City. Many cities have their own Taco Buenos; most of them are generally undistinguished from one another, and this Taco Bueno is no different.
My reason in mapping it was primarily the fact that I knew about it. I simply have not explored Oklahoma City very much during my several months of living here. I rarely go far from the campus. This isn’t because I don’t enjoy going places—I do. But I simply haven’t had an incentive to go anywhere.
Strange things began to make themselves known to me as I headed out on Tuesday with the intent of spending some hours at Taco Bueno to scout out the place and writ down my thoughts and fantasies of what might be pretty neat to imagine there. But as I walked toward it, I noticed the Taco Bueno sign was not visible from the street I was on, and I am quite confident it had always been visible prior to that time. In fact I am 100% sure I could see it before, but now I could not. Turned out, the sign was now only visible when going around the corner and getting closer to the building. Very strange. I ignored this bizarre bit of out-of-the-ordinariness, perhaps unwisely, and went inside. (I never did learn the explanation for that particular incident, and none of the secrets I shortly discovered shed any light on it.)
You probably know the atmosphere of Taco Bueno; this one was like any other. Nice enough, but nothing especially fancy. I thought, since I spent so much time there, why not make it slightly more interesting? I wondered if the very fact that it was not especially exciting to begin with may end up being a virtue of the map. Some of my classmates might make interesting places more interesting, but taking a less interesting place and making it more interesting seemed an equally worthwhile challenge. I decided to wait until later to order some food, and I carried my sketchbook and computer to a table to begin writing down some more ideas. I was writing a bit of stuff that was along the lines of what I had blogged about a few days ago, about “magical life-sustaining food and burritos that increase study skills by 65%” and other such things, and then I again started to notice strange things.
The first thing I started to consider was how, adorning the walls of the restaurant, there were some pictures (drawings or paintings, I am not sure) of a place that looks like Mexico. One of the pictures shows the entire city, and the frame bore the label “Bueno City limits.” There is, of course, no such place. I made a strange find in realizing that each of the other three pictures shows a chunk of the main picture, in close-up. To clarify, one picture shows the ENTIRE city; the other three pictures each shows an expanded section of it.
I wondered why this was so. If the pictures had been meant purely as decoration, each one would surely have been different. There was no explanation for why each picture was distinguished only by the fact that it was a close-up of a different part of the presumably fictional city.
But then the “sounds-crazy-right” thought occurred to me, that perhaps it was not a fictional city at all but was in fact a quite real city. You see, I had to ask myself, why would each picture emphasize a different part of the city? It seemed like a kind of code, like it was a message that only certain people were supposed to know what it meant. Then I realized that it was plausible—not likely, but plausible—that each picture had something to do with transportation to the city, that perhaps each picture had the ability to transport somebody to a different part of it. Maybe this was so people did not have to travel as far to get where they wanted to go. I got up to examine one of the pictures more closely, and found no additional suspicious details. I was about to dismiss the thought as an idle fantasy when I remembered a disturbing event from a few weeks ago.
I had taken a nap between classes and, upon awakening, I found myself totally unable to move. All I remembered shortly after it happened was that I was able to get up a few moments later. Immediately afterwards was my class in psychology with Dr. Jowaisas, and he said IN THAT VERY CLASS, without my saying a word to him or anyone (!) about what had happened to me, that the inability to move after waking up was a common result of the numbing of part of the brain that occurs during sleep, or some such. Somehow, though I remembered no direct connection, I felt that this slightly alarming coincidence had some bearing on the present situation. I had to investigate further.
I began to look at the complete picture of “Bueno City” (meaning “GOOD CITY” but now I wondered if it was not actually “good” at all, or if in fact it was possibly quite ill-meaning and with deathly/deadly intent), and I looked at it from multiple different angles and tilting my head and the like. Eventually I stopped dead in front of it and stared at a particular point, at the edge of one of the buildings on the picture. I was very close so that it filled my entire field of vision.
I could swear (in fact I do swear), as I looked at the picture, unblinking/unmoving, there can be little to no doubt that it demonstrated some degree of change or some kind of effect, and it was as if I was getting a glimpse into something beyond the ordinary, something very abnormal. What this phenomenon was, I find myself, now as then, almost at a loss for words to describe. Nevertheless, something was WRONG with that picture. I had to stare at it for what seemed like a very long time, perhaps a few minutes before it happened, but once I got myself into that state I could clearly see that the picture was moving or shifting in some unnatural, almost ethereal way, rather blurring and glowing and even vaguely “shifting,” its colors altering weirdly. All I can say is, that was not, in any regard, natural. I quickly averted my eyes after the effect began—and all returned to normal. That kind of thing has never happened when I have looked at any other picture or drawing or painting of a Mexican city.
I will let you draw your own conclusions as to what that means.
Other oddities abounded. I saw a tissue on the floor when I first sat down, but after I had gotten up to look at the picture and later sat down again, the thing on the floor was then a napkin. This was no “trick of the light” or any other of such. I saw what I saw. Tricks of the light can not transform tissues into napkins, now, can they? I can’t be sure of what kind of plot that trick was a part of, but I can be sure it was done AT THE VERY LEAST to “mess with” me, if not for some more wicked and unholy plan.
I had no doubt, then, that the picture was a portal and that perhaps by speaking some foul word of the tongue of demons/aliens/etc., one might disappear the glass that lay in front and allow for travel into that realm to the “Mexican” city that is surely in HELL or on THE DARK SIDE OF MARS or other vile places, etc., etc.
Now, I did not remember it at the time, but as I thought back to the incident of paralysis upon waking, I could recall (and more vividly each moment, even to this very minute!) then that there was more to my condition than what I had recalled before; I must have suppressed the memories out of trauma, and truly traumatic they were. I remembered with horror that as I lay paralyzed in bed, I had seen out of the corner of my eye, a creature walking towards me, or rather it kind of GLIDED, it HOVERED and KEPT HOVERING over me lying motionless/helpless—and it held out a kind of cockroach leg-type hand and at the tip of its appendage was a burrito, yes, I am sure I remember it! After that, however, I have no further recollection.
How very strange, strange indeed, that Dr. Jowaisas gave his “explanation” for such paralysis during sleep on the very day it happened to me—too strange. I am forced to conclude Dr. Jowaisas was PUT UP to it, yes, he was IN on the “charade” with the thing I saw. Or perhaps he was not in on it per se, but only indirectly. I do not rightly know whether the man was acting knowingly, willingly, or if he had been put up into an actual MIND-CONTROL state, and that in this sad, helpless state the freaks had controlled his actions and even his words in class that day, all in order to trick me into thinking I had not played host to the monster in my room earlier that very day. I shudder to think they might have done the same to me as to him, I shudder even as I write this.
Recalling this dread episode, I realized all was not well in Taco Bueno. Now quite suspicious and on edge, I was not yet in fear of my life but instead quite anxious to get the bottom of all this.
Is this Taco Bueno unique, I wondered?? Is this the only one with such strange goings-on, I asked myself? And then I answered myself: surely not. You, good reader, will remember that three “Bueno City” pictures showed close-ups of various parts of the city, meaning those portals go to the individual places shown, perhaps because the Satan-worshipping Venusians were, shall we say, too LAZY to walk around the whole city, so they used multi-teleporters to get around from point A to point B. I concluded there was only one answer as to why ONE of these pictures showed the whole city; that one was actually a symbol of the base of operations, and it led, I have no lack of assurance, to the central hub—and there, I expect (for I remember seeing such pictures in other Taco Buenos) there are portals or teleporters to other Taco Buenos, in all likelihood, all of them, including your own city’s.
A potentially important side-note: Microsoft Word thinks “teleporters” is not a word; it even underlined it in JAGGED RED. And that is not the only thing that is jagged—I will return to that shortly. Herr Word even tried to make me “re-think” what I had JUST TYPED, but I have done quite enough re-thinking on my own and do not need the mobster hack Bill Gates (communist Martian sell-out) telling me what I can and can not type. No, I will not put up with it and I will be writing a complaint to him personally, this very night, no sooner than I finish writing this. Scratch that, my internet isn’t working. They are cleverer than I feared… (I have, by the way, known “teleporters” to be a true and bona-fide English-language word from the time I was nine years old, if not younger still.)
The fact is that I am no longer writing this as an “Invisible City” project, but in truth I am writing it to WARN YOU of terrible, strange and deadly happenings that are now happening in the world. Read on, dear reader. Read on, if you dare to peek out from behind the shroud of ignorance and learn that your safe, cheerful/happy world-of-fun-and-frolic is actually a WICKED and SATANIC LIE.
Now returning to my note of a certain something that is jagged, literally and figuristically, I made another astute little observation that I am pretty proud of myself for noticing. Chances are most people did not have the brains to see it perhaps as they were brain-washed into a sleepy stupor—more on that later—but the architecture of Taco Bueno is surely not natural. See, its east-side walls are jagged, as I alluded before. Sitting in the middle of the room and looking around at them, I felt intimidated. You can see the walls on my map. You will no doubt agree, if you are free from mental bondage, that those walls are at VERY STRANGE ANGLES. Frighteningly strange; just look at the map with your own EYES, and tell me with a straight face that normal walls i.e. Walls Built By Humans look like THAT. If you can say those words, I will be forced to conclude you have actually been literally BRAIN WASHED by the Satan-worshippers (i.e. Satanists and/or Satanazis) running that fine fast-food eatery.
If you are offended by my suggestion you are in a zombie-brain bamboozled state right now, that is definite/conclusive proof YOU ARE in fact BRAIN-BAMBOOZLED right now at this very moment. Otherwise you would not care to take offense, would you? Can you “explain” any other possibility to me that might “explain away” your reactions?
At that point, after I’d been sitting in the restaurant jotting notes for about an hour or two, I began to get hungry—uncovering conspiracies is, naturally, very demanding work—and I got up to order some burritos. As I stood at the counter to order, I noticed another thing; the flavors of smoothies are different now than they were a few weeks ago. Some weeks ago, they were strawberry and pomegranate berry. Now, they had been replaced by lemonade and something else, respectively. Can you think of a reason why? Could it have to do with newer and more effective/efficient BRAIN WASH POISON???
The choice is, of course, yours to make—my role is only to offer questions for you to consider. I suggest you consider them carefully.
Can you think of a reason why your BODY becomes COLD when you are soaked in water? Can you think of a reason why your HEAD (i.e. BRAIN) becomes COLD when you consume a cold drink of such a kind as a smoothie too fast? My friend, consider all that I am saying to you very carefully.
As I was saying, I ordered my food, and I ordered it to eat THERE, INSIDE the restaurant, but it was instead put into a TO-GO BAG. When I pointed this out quite politely, they acted as though it was an accident—but obviously it was a clever attempt to get me to leave, meaning they knew I was onto their game, but you see I was not about to fall for it. I ate my food there in the place, after carefully smelling it to ensure it was not poisoned. I have eaten their burritos before without coming to harm, so I considered it was safe—for the time being. This action was, you are surely itching to tell me, extremely foolish. I know that now, but then I was quite hungry and light-headed.
When I sat back down, my chair was now clearly off-balance; indeed, one of the legs was shorter and/or longer than the other one (see map!!!). I did not come close to harm, but if I had been too careless it is possible and/or plausible and/or probable that I might have or would have lost my balance. Indeed, it became quickly quite clear this was literally a LAUGHABLY transparent attempt to make me Lose Balance, leading me to fall over and possibly crack My Skull open—by “accident” (“axe-ident”) they would tell the police, and perhaps bribe them with free food, as well.
I began again to look around the establishment and my eye happened upon another funny little detail they thought I wouldn’t notice. But of course, contrary to their expectations, I had resisted their brain wash poison and had not had a smoothie in some weeks. At this point, I saw that there were TWO kinds of chairs in the place: chairs crafted with metal, cushion and wood and chairs made only of cushion and metal. Why have two kinds of chairs? I racked my brain to recall anytime I had seen customers sitting on the metal chairs.
I could not recall a single time.
Something was amiss, and at this point there had been enough signs, enough evidence, that something was terribly, terrifically wrong. There was a reason I had never remembered seeing somebody sitting in those chairs. I began to brainstorm the options.
- They were reserved for the mobster-shyster creatures that ran the operation, which was by this point taking on cosmic proportions.
- They were another kind of TRAP CHAIR similar to the one I nearly died in, by which people were insta-transported away to the kitchen or perhaps Mothership UFO or some inter-dimensional combination thereof, where mayhaps they were systemically butchered, cut up, and cannibalized. Or rather, hunted predatorily for food by another race, so it was not cannibalism in the most technical sense.
I am inspecting my memories of seeing the kitchen to my utmost ability, but for the life of me, I can not remember the dimensions of that area. I have a good memory, but I don’t remember seeing any back or side walls of the Taco Bueno kitchen; I simply don’t. Therefore, I can only conclude—in this case, tentatively—that there was possibly some kind of optical/mental illusion that was pulled, a wool-over-the-eyes one might say, that prevented me and other customers from seeing or suspecting without great thought and resistance to brain wash poison that the room was actually INFINITE in size via alien technology and/or witchcraft and actually HAD NO WALLS. Again, I am going by memory alone so this particular theory is only very speculative, but I am about 80% sure there was something up with that kitchen. It fits with the already-established fact that these beings have the ability to alter the nature of space in an unknown and (to us) unknowable way.
Like I said before, there are portals in all Taco Buenos to a central hub in some place that looks like Mexico but is NOT Mexico that, in turn, contains portals to all other Taco Buenos in the world. There is no doubt this is universal, and I am sure the CEO of the company knows and is in cahoots with who is responsible, but probably s/he her/himself is not responsible. But then, WHO is responsible?????
A clue was to be found in my receipt.
I had ordered 3 bean burritos—$3.27—and 1 small self serve drink—$1.59. That is the price now that they have removed the student discount (VERY SUSPICIOUS TIMING!!!) Now let us look at those numbers; let us “seek” and we “shall find.” On the receipt they can be seen like so:
Let us look at these digits in order. You can do these equations yourself. Do not take my word for it. I will not for even a moment ask you to take a single word I say on trust. Do this for yourself. In order, the digits are:
Take the first two digits and multiply. 3 X 2 = 6
Take the next two digits and subtract. 7 – 1 = 6
Take the final two digits and divide! 5 / 9 = .56
I do not believe, my friend, that you are gullible enough to look upon the mark of the wicked one and think “Oh, this looks innocent enough.”
As I write this, it is now 1:01 AM of the night before the “Invisible City” assignment is due, and I am beginning to see even weirder things. I see Brief Flashes Of Light, and perhaps some vague, surreal movement, out of the corners of my eyes. It never happens in my center of vision, only in my peripheral vision, but I see it now, even NOW, in my DORM ROOM. This is not encouraging, but I need only to make it through one night and then I can get this warning out to the world. It seems dangerous to stay here, but more dangerous still to walk to the university center at this time of night. I don’t even know if the center is open now.
The UNIVERSITY INTERNET has not been working consistently in my dorm room in over one week, and it is this Clear so-obvious-a-child-could-see-it Corruption that is now potentially about to prevent me from getting the word out about this strange stuff. Those two-bit mobsters (probably with the C.I.A.) can surely not be ignorant of the lack of internet connection in Harris Hall; no, there can be no doubt of FOUL PLAY, no doubt they’ve been planning for WEEKS if not MONTHS to make things diffiCULT for me because their puppet-master Satanazi controllers knew that I might have known the cockroach that was sneaking chicanerously in my bedroom a few weeks ago. Those sons of witches have been in here before, they could be here again. How I wish I could just remember whether I locked the door that first time it appeared in my room. Then I could know whether I am safe with the door locked or if they can still get in. Not that there is anything stopping them from breaking the windows in and MURDERING ME IN MY SLEEP.
Bugs are flying around my head and then disappearing into thin air. I must hurry to finish this and then take my chances with Morpheus, god of sleep/dreaming.
A few hours ago, I had to leave Taco Bueno because (A) It was nearly closing time and (B) They had no outlet for a computer to be plugged in for power, so far as I could find. This is very unlikely to be by accident, because it is an established fact in our age that people go into restaurants with their computers to do work. This is well known, and restaurant owners know it as well. Probably, they singled ME out (and this is shown by the giant bug’s aforementioned presence in my room) to ensure I COULD NOT FINISH WRITING about them and their iniquities and their treason to Planet Earth, yes, their nasty secrets regarding the criminal-underground mobster C.I.A. treason to Planet Earth.
There was instead a kind of outlet on the wall that I did not recognize. Maybe it was meant to power robots, or to connect to and possibly VIRUS-INFECT our Internet and/or technology such as cars, TV, hospital computer life-support systems of the dying and near-dead, and even Internet.
More notes on the Taco Bueno experience. I have never been through the emergency exit, nor in the Women’s Restroom, and now that I think of it, I am 99% positive I have never seen Female Customers go into the women’s restroom—only Female Employees. Could they be reporting to the Mothership, or a gang of high-rolling mobsters, or maybe to their Master, the Prince of Darkness? I only offer suggestions, but, it is clear to me that nothing at Taco Bueno is what it seems—AND I personally have NO Reason, no reason at all, to believe these doors lead where their signs SAY they lead.
Why should I believe the door signs? I could only believe them if I ignored the other, More Important signs i.e. the signs of danger and treachery. Why indeed, why on earth, should I believe the door signs?? A sign on a Gestapo prison camp door says “shower.” Do YOU believe it???
As I was about to leave, I was struck by the queer shape of the trash cans. They were about the right size and shape to house a human adult-sized being, or maybe of below-average size, but nevertheless a being possibly Armed With A KNIFE or perhaps axe or machete (or perhaps gun, but this is rather unlikely) and who/which was ready to DO ME IN once and for all. Not willing to take such a foolish chance as to get near it, I left my tray on the table and left quickly. I barely escaped with my life.
And if the evidence I have today presented you is something you can live with in your lovely peaceful little world, PLEASE tell me what you are smoking that lets you delightfully/deliriously stay asleep and IGNORE the Very Strange oddball not-quite-right events that besiege us here in the Real World.
Taco Bueno still has excellent burritos and the staff (though reptilian-shapeshifters) are very nice, and for those reasons I can say without hesitation that I will continue to eat there and take my chances with the mobster Satanazis. Every decision in life is a gamble. My days are numbered, anyway. I might as well continue to enjoy the food of the ones who want me dead. When the time comes and I am alien-abducted/demon-possessed/murderized/all-of-the-above, I will have the last laugh, because I will be enjoying some delicious food.
Beloved brethren, dear denizens of AUM, I have absolutely zero doubt that each and every Taco Bueno of YOUR CITY TOO is host to the devious cockroach schemers that run the whole joint, plotting to enact various nefarious plans. It is up to you what to do with this, your final and only warning.