Ladies and gentlemen, I fear that I have some most disturbing news to report; the Mole People, lead by their dark lord, Spanky, are once again endeavoring to bring down us overworlders. I had my first inkling that such a thing might be afoot when last month reports surfaced from California concerning evil bubbling up from beneath the very streets. At the time I tried to tell myself that it was nothing more that the Return of Vigo the Carpathian, of the movie gods punishing California for giving all the Oscars to sucky, non-monster containing movies this year. Alas, this last Tuesday I was confronted by, and quite possibly hit upon, by what I now believe to be an actual, honest to goodness, Mole Person. Now, that all the world may hear and heed my warning, I relate the tale of that fateful night.

It was about 10:00 at night, and I was sitting in Waffle House with Amy (also known as That Girl That Ben’s Dating") for my sister and her boyfriend to show up. Suddenly, we were interrupted from our making fun of the waffle menu typos by a being who leant upon the jukebox. He was moderately portly, youngish, and in possession of glasses, which no doubt helped to compensate for the fact that the eternal darkness of his subterrene realm had left his eyes weakened to the glorious light of Chester. Though he had made every attempt to pass himself off as a human, clearly he was not of our world.

"Are you from around here?" quoth he, in a nasal and barely audible whisper, "I need directions to get to Route 95." Now, Route 95 happens to be pretty much next door to Waffle House; to the extent that if you were to run out the front door and take off in any random direction while gibbering like a drunken hyena, you would be more likely than not to end up on this major thoroughfare. Perhaps the openness of our world has disoriented him, or perhaps he merely was on a mission of reconnaissance, that his master might more easily know which roads to blow up in the war to come, whichever it was, he didn’t believe me when I said it was right next door, choosing instead to pretend that he had meant Route 288, which is still pretty much next door.

At this point, things got freaky. "So," he said with a terrible gleam in his eye, "What do you do around here?" I was now officially weirded out, since there are few things in this world that disturb me more than being hit on by a Mole Person spy while in the presence of my girlfriend. Maybe I’m just strange that way, maybe I’m simply old-fashioned, but yeah, I was wiggin’ out. Nonetheless, since my two options at this point were playing along or leaping over the table and heat butting him through the front window, I decided to play it cool. I told him of my job and all the wondrous things I do involving IT, firewood, silly pants, chickens, and kung fu, but he saw through my clever ruse and rightly must have figured out my real plans for global domination. "Gee, you must be very ambitious," said he, "I work for a business that counsels people of how to become millionaires." At this point, I began to think that in addition to being a Mole Person, he might also be a servant of the devil himself, come to tempt me with improbable dreams of fantastic wealth. "Oh, yes" he continued, "one of our people has 17 brazillion dollars now and at least seven Porsches; have you ever met anyone like that?" I replied that, to my knowledge, I had not. Personally, all I’ve ever wanted is a nice screened-in Porsche, but that is neither here nor there. By now his voice had gotten all quiet and intense, and I’m sure the effect would have been terribly dramatic had I been able to hear more than every third word that he said to me, which kind of killed the entire mood which he must have been trying to craft.

Sensing his moment had come, he moved in for the kill, "You know, you two remind me of a lot of the couples I’ve worked with in the past, out to make a future for themselves." At this point someone in the kitchen fired up a grill or something, and I missed just about everything he was telling me. Perhaps he was giving me instructions on how to attain such fabulous wealth, perhaps he was suggesting I take him out to dinner and a movie, maybe he was threatening me with an eternity of underground suffering and torment. I had no idea whatsoever what he was saying though, and my resulting look of coolness and composure clearly caught him off guard. Once more he raised his voice to an audible level, "So, are you two interested?" I myself had no idea what I might be agreeing to here, and as such I turned to Amy, whom he had been standing nearer to through the previous spiel, and gave her what I believed to be a "Gee, I dunno, what do you think, Dear?" sort of look, which alas came off as more of a, "Good Lord, what am I doing here, aaaaaaaaah?!" sort of a look. In any case, after a few tense moments, Amy wisely replied that we were, in fact, not interested, thank you very much, at which point the Mole Man in question, sensing that his quarry had slipped away, quickly left the building.

To be perfectly honest, I have no idea what on earth happened that night. Clearly he was an agent of Spanky, Lord of the Mole People, sent on some vile quest to corrupt me, steal my money (Americans dollars being of great value to the Mole People, since they foolishly switched to the Euro a few years back), learn what interstates to bomb, or possibly just to completely weird me out. At any rate, I just thought y’all might want to know that I am officially raising the Homeland Mole People Warning Color to Ecru, which means that all Mole People are to be shot in the face on sight. Be careful, they walk among us.