CASE FILE: BRYAN
Long before the elaborate theories were fleshed out in connection with the human-reptile extraterrestrials who roam the world, most knowledge about them spread through word of mouth: perhaps a drunk farmer saw one lurking in his cabbage patch at midnight, or a drunk cabbage patch saw a farmer turn into one at noon. Despite the obvious inconsistencies in these rumors -- why on earth would a cabbage patch be getting drunk in the middle of the day? -- some are just coincidental enough, just dark enough, and just plain far out enough that they might be “true.”
Sometime in early [redacted], a promising young man named Bryan [redacted] went missing from his hometown of [redacted]. His parents, Mr. [redacted] and Mrs. [redacted], better known as “Bryan’s parents”, were originally horrified, but they’ve since come to terms with their baby-faced boo-boo’s fate:
After a tip-off from an anonymous man that they can only describe as “lizard”, Bryan’s parents believe that their son was one of the first casualties in reptoid-on-man violence.
Ardent Analyst: Can either of you tell me the exact words that this unknown reptile person said to you?
Bryan’s Mom: Oh, gosh. I remember very distinctly that he started out with, “Slaaaaves!”
AA: Holy smokes.
Bryan’s Dad: I don’t recall that part too well, but his next sentence will stay in my memory forever.
BM: Was it his “dance, monkey, dance” spiel?
BD: What?
BM: Go on.
BD: Well, after he said whatever he said at first, I remember him licking us and whispering, “You ever heard the term ‘reptoid-on-man violence?’”
AA: That is truly creepy.
BM: I don’t think that happened.
BD: Gad dammit, honey! Why don’t you tell the kind man more about your “slave” dog crap while you’re at it?
BM: Don’t you tell me I didn’t hear that! I swear to god, it’s stuck in my mind like a Budlight wrapper in a--
AA: Heh heh.
BM: What?
AA: Heh. Heh heh, carry on. I just, heh, noticed that your initials could stand for the phrase “bowel movement.”
BD: Ho ho ho.
BM: Oh, you silly boys. Anyway, that cry of “Slaaaaves!” is stuck in my mind like a chunk of brownie under the J key, and no one can tell me I imagined it!
BD: So that lizard man, he comes out of the shadows and licks me, and--
BM: Hey honey, can you go get me a coke?
BD: I gotta finish my story, babe.
AA: It’s quite all right. I’ll get a soda for you folks.
BM: I’m just trying to get him out of the room so I can tell the real story.
AA: How devious!
BD: The lizard man, he licks me, whispers about the reptoid nonsense. We didn’t know what to think!
BM: I think he was a homosexual.
BD: Well, he filled us in on the matter.
AA: Did he tell you how exactly Bryan died?
BM: Something about…
BD: Pulled behind a truck, wasn’t it?
BM: Gosh. I thought he was given a lethal injection.
BD: Don’t count on it. Actually, he might have choked on a hot dog.
AA: Can I cut in? I’d just like to say that I once knew a man who choked on a hot dog. It’s a common tragedy.
BD: I’m very sorry to hear that.
BM: Well, Bryan is in a better place now.
BD: Don’t think he’s in hell?
BM: What makes you say that?
BD: Well, you weren’t on our fishing trips.
AA: I think this is getting too personal, but before I leave, I wish to once again express my condolences for your loss.
BM: When did you two go fishing?
BD: I’ll tell you later.