Hello fellow collusionists, welcome to episode 12 of the Crossing Guard Tapes. We are coming to you from an undisclosed location. What you are about to hear is true. This is an unauthorized account taken from the diary of Mike Limbo, from his stint as a counterintelligence agent with a deep state organization known as the Guards of the Realm. Since then, mike has been living in a twilight world of shadows and isolation. But without your help, mike is destined to remain in Limbo. Time is running out. Help us bring Mike back. Join us as we bring you episode 12 of the Crossing Guard Tapes.
Speaker 2:So she goes.
Speaker 3:You are very tense. You need to relax.
Speaker 2:I tried to take back my hand, but she held it even firmer now.
Speaker 3:You're tired, you need to rest.
Speaker 2:She was smiling at me now. She seemed like a really nice old lady. I have just the chair for you. She said.
Speaker 3:It is the most comfortable chair you will ever sit in. Believe me, you won't regret it.
Speaker 2:She stood up and holding my hand, she led me to an easy chair in the corner of the room where she sat me down. Now rest my boy.
Speaker 3:Close your eyes and take a little nap.
Speaker 2:The chair was very comfortable. I closed my eyes and felt myself sinking into the cushions. I kept sinking and sinking, deeper and deeper and deeper, until I realized that the chair itself was actually moving, like one of those barber chairs, but a really tall one that just keeps going down and down and down. I saw the gypsy woman looking down at me from the ceiling through the trap door I had just gone through. She wasn't smiling anymore. I knew I shouldn't have trusted her.
Speaker 2:The trap door quickly shut and I found myself in a brightly lit room surrounded by a bunch of huge bodyguard type guys who grabbed me and held me down. Before I could blink, they strapped me into a chair and began wheeling it out of the room. They whisked me through the maze of hallways and town elevators until we were back in surroundings that felt Barely familiar to me. They took me into a large meeting room where a group of grim-faced men and women waited, sitting around a conference table. Attaché cases were opened on the table in front of each of them and they all seemed to be busy pulling out folders crammed with papers and photos and such getting ready for the big meeting. Finally, we were joined by a wiry, gray-haired old man who sat down at the head of the table.
Speaker 2:Everyone quieted down immediately the moment he entered the room. He was the most nervous person I've ever seen. He kept adjusting and then readjusting his enormous thick glasses. He seemed to be constantly cleaning the lenses on his sleeve and then putting them into his breast pocket. Moments later he would take them out again, clean them and put them back on.
Speaker 2:Decaf, buddy, decaf. The lenses on his glasses must have been at least an inch thick, which made his eyes look like they were about five sizes too big for his head. You could see the veins popping out of his eyeballs every time he blinked, every time he twitched. It was really creepy looking, since his eyes were constantly moving, darting this way and that way, and then blinking some more. I thought for sure his eyes would pop right out of their sockets. He kind of looked like an owl, an owl who drinks lots of coffee and smokes too many cigarettes. Owl man, that's his name from now on. Hey there, owl man, ya freaky, freak. When Owl man wasn't playing with his glasses, he was lighting cigarettes and then stubbing them out after just a few puffs. This owl dude was a total nervous wreck. He was even worse than the fruit cake. Then the phone rang and he grabbed it immediately. He listened for a few seconds without saying a word. After a while he just muttered.
Speaker 1:Okay.
Speaker 2:In a hung up. Everyone got real quiet when he put the phone down. No one said a word. While he re-re-adjusted his glasses, yet again lit a cigarette, took a puff and then stubbed it out in the ashtray. He turned to me and said Tell us what happened yesterday.
Speaker 3:take your time, Tell us every detail you can remember.
Speaker 2:They must have asked me the same questions at least 50 times. Describe the men in the Black Sedan. I already have For the next three hours. I was grilled at length about yesterday's events. Please describe them again, just to make sure. I already told you I didn't see them. We went over the details time and again. Who said what? Who they said it to. What happened next, what time it was when this or that occurred. They must have asked me the same question at least 50 times until they were finally satisfied that I had told them all that I could remember. Thank, what did you see? I don't know. Even then there were still two of my answers that they weren't satisfied with. What did he say?
Speaker 2:Owl man kept asking me to describe the men in the Black Sedan. What do they look like? Describe them. I didn't see them. Who's really hung up on that one? Now you know they were men. I've told you a hundred times I didn't see them.
Speaker 2:They were trying to squeeze any forgotten detail out of me. I kept trying to explain to them that I only saw him for about two seconds, and half of that was while I was hiding in the back seat keeping my head down. They also wanted to know what Agent Philbin was doing when he died. They kept asking me to describe for them in sickening detail every last gesture, spasm and farty let out while he was laying there bleeding to death. I had hoped I'd never have to think about it again for the rest of my life. It wasn't a pleasant thing to see. Thanks to these sick fucks, his death will be stuck in my mind forever. Hey Owlman, thanks for all the wonderful memories. I was so exhausted and hungry that I could barely even keep my eyes open, let alone try to remember something that I didn't ever want to think about again. But they were determined to suck every last detail out of me.
Speaker 2:The phone rang again and Owlman picked it up. He listened for a while, muttered a few words no one could understand and hung up. He waited in silence as he cleaned his glasses yet again and put them away. Nobody made so much as a sound. Everyone in the room, including me, was scared, shitless. Suddenly he stood up and slammed his fist on the table. Everyone practically jumped three feet in the air. His enormous eyes glared at me like they were going to pop out of his eye sockets. Why are you lying to me? He screamed Right.
Speaker 2:Then an orderly rolled a wheelchair into the room. Somebody picked me up from behind and slammed me into the wheelchair, then strapped me in Tight. There were leather straps cutting into my arms, my legs, my neck, my forehead. It hurt like shit. What the fuck? Were they really that worried that I was going to escape? There was one of me and about 20 of them. They wheeled me out into the hallway With Owl man leading the way. Anyone who saw us coming jumped out to the side and then stood and saluted like scared children. Owl man didn't even look at them, he just kept walking.
Speaker 2:They wheeled me into the office of some guy named Dr Nott. His office was dark too, kind of like the Gypsy Ladies place. This Dr Nott sat at his desk reading some papers beneath a single desk lamp, the only light in the room. He looked as stiff as a statue and, to tell you the truth, I wasn't even sure if he was breathing or not. I wouldn't have put money on it either way. Dr Nott was even older looking than Owl man. I guess that he was at least 80 or 90 years old, maybe more. He looked like a skeleton with hair, and what little Harry did have was combed across his white pockmarked scalp. He completely ignored us while he finished reading Take your time, skeleton man. I'm in no hurry. All of the circulation in my body has been completely cut off. I'm turning blue and it hurts like shit. But don't worry, pain is my middle name. I like it. Give me more, you bratty old fuck. Finally, he put the papers into a folder, closed it and then looked at me like a grinning skull.
Speaker 3:Hello Michael, my name is Dr Nott Nice to meet you. I've heard so much about you.
Speaker 2:He said and extended his hand to me. My arms were still tied tight to my sides, but he shook my hand anyway. Very generous soul. His voice was soft and reassuring, the nicest skeleton I've ever met.
Speaker 3:To the orderlies he said Please unstrap Michael and have him lay on my couch. We're going to have a little chat he made it seem so friendly.
Speaker 2:We're just going to have a little chat.
Speaker 2:How nice, I can't wait. I was led to the couch next to his desk. It wasn't a couch for sitting, though. It was more of a couch for laying down, like the ones you'd see in the movies in a shrink's office. I laid down and waited while Owl man and Dr Nott discussed some things to themselves very quietly in the corner. In the meantime I was starting to get the feeling in my arms and legs back. The strap marks weren't as deep red as they were a few seconds ago, so I have that to be grateful for.
Speaker 2:Looking around the office, I noticed that the walls were covered with plaques and diplomas and photos. There were pictures of Dr Nott with his wife and children. He was much younger then. He actually had a full head of hair and he kind of looked normal. There were a bunch of photos of him shaking hands with famous people in movie stars, like that one guy that was in Planet of the Apes. There was even a photo of Dr Nott standing between the President of the United States and that Castro guy. Everyone is smiling and Dr Nott is shaking hands with both of them at the same time.
Speaker 2:This skeleton man must be a pretty important guy, so what I can't figure out is what does he want with me? Owl man and Skeleton man finished talking together and Owl man left. Maybe he flew away somewhere To his nest, maybe Probably to get some more cigarettes. Just a little joke, owl man doesn't look like he flies around too much. Doctor Knot then turned his attention to me. He pulled a chair up next to the couch and just sat there grinning down at me. The grinning skull made me pretty nervous. Even though he seemed like an okay guy and spoke to me like we were old friends, I was still scared shitless. How would you feel? I mean, there I was stuck in a room face to face with a man that looked like he had at least one foot in the grave and the other was about to climb in and join him. It made me shiver just looking at him. He goes.
Speaker 3:You've seen a lot of things, some that weren't very pleasant, wow.
Speaker 2:He hit the nail on the head. Yep, I just saw a bunch of people getting gunned down and murdered in broad daylight. Not very pleasant at all. Not very pleasant at all. I just looked at him and nodded.
Speaker 3:You have suffered some sort of trauma, which is why you are having trouble remembering some of the details. There's still a lot of information deep inside of you that still needs to be mined.
Speaker 2:Mind, that sounds great. You're going to mine my brain. Here come the drills. I am so dead, I am so fucking dead. I braced for the worst. I tensed up so much I almost shit my pants. I blew a nasty fart out instead, and, oh my god Serves them right. What a stinker. It didn't faze Skeleton man, though Not in the least. He just kept grinning his Skeleton grin at me.
Speaker 3:He patted my shoulder and said there is nothing to get upset about. We're just going to use a little hypnotherapy on you. It won't hurt a bit Relax.
Speaker 2:I couldn't believe it. I said hypnotherapy, Isn't that like hypnotism? He nodded. I almost started laughing. I mean, what a joke. I've seen those hypnotists on TV and they're just a big fucking hoax. I kept thinking go ahead, hypnotize me, make me bark like a fucking dog, See if.
Speaker 3:I care. No, we won't make you bark like a dog. What the fuck? None of that nonsense. Can you read my mind?
Speaker 2:Instead, he kept trying to convince me with some scientific mumbo jumbo about tapping into my deeper subconscious mind.
Speaker 3:You attempt to tap into your deeper subconscious mind.
Speaker 2:Some shit like that. I just smiled to myself Go ahead, skeleton man, I'm ready. He asked me where I was from. Where are you from, michael?
Speaker 3:We don't know much about you.
Speaker 2:But before I could answer, he started telling me stories about his childhood, when he was a young boy growing up on a farm.
Speaker 3:When I was a young man growing up on a farm in the south of England. We were poor but happy.
Speaker 2:I was already tired, and his stories about planting the corn and rotating the crops were just plain deadly boring. His voice droned on and on and he spoke in such a quiet tone that I found it hard to pay attention. When I was six years old, to a farm in Iowa. His long rambling stories made me sleepy. I kept waking up in mid-sentence not knowing what the fuck he just said, and then kind of drifting back to sleep Hard work planting the corn, plowing the fields, we found it.
Speaker 3:We needed to rotate the crops.
Speaker 2:I remember yawning a few times, struggling to pay attention, started to plant wheat and borrow. It just got too hard to keep my eyes open and then September 11th 1989. I awoke from a very deep sleep and found myself in a very familiar looking room. Now, I was not back in my own quarters, on my own bunk next to my own locker. Nope, I was back in myself. Wouldn't you know it? I was a prisoner again.
Speaker 1:You have just heard episode 12 of the Crossing Guard tapes. We are shutting down our transmitter now to prevent the DOJ from tracing our signal and, dear listeners, due to the FBI's unrelenting effort to recover the tapes, there is a risk that they could be monitoring our site. So be sure to keep a low profile when sharing, subscribing and liking. Until next time. Co-conspirators, stay alive and spread the word. The Crossing Guard tapes was written and produced by Jim Waters, featuring the voice talent of Tommy Nicolai, pat Waters, yui Garibald, terry Owen and Jonathan Northover, with original music from Pendulum, incorporated Technical support and marketing courtesy of Jazz Garawal. The number you have dialed has been changed. The new number is Deep State Chronicles.