“I firmly believe those Masons are involved with the movement to cover up the fact that what we think are angels are actually aliens,” said the dried out little chain smoker, shaking the flaky little bits of dead skin out of her sweater. “No one really knows what they're up to in their lodges, you know.”
Peter gave her a quizzical look and backed up a bit. This was a Monday and he didn't need flaky little bits of dead skin all over his nice, fresh blazer. “Ma'am,” he said, “I don't think the Masons really care too much about aliens. They are more concerned about children's hospitals and pancake breakfasts...”
The dried out little chain smoker was having no part of this. “No, I know one of them Masons, and he told me all about the angels.”
“Trust me, ma'am,” Peter said, turning the square and compass on his ring to the inside of his hand. “I think a lot of anti-masons would probably like you to believe that, but unless I'm mistaken the Masons themselves don't require any particular beliefs of their members aside from an unwavering faith in...”
“Look here, you,” she blurted in his face while little white puffs of dead skin sloughed off her cheeks in her excitement, “I know...so just you shut up. Those good-for-nothing Masons are always covering up their evil, kabbalistic, secretive alien-baiting and new-world-order-creating work with a bunch of childrens' hospitals, orphanages, burn-care centers, academic scholarships and relief to the poor and afflicted. All that do-goodery is just a red herring to keep us off the scent of their connection with the ones who did in Hoffa, JFK, and Andy Rooney.”
“Andy Rooney?” he asked.
“And don't say you don't know anything about it, you dirty, filthy Mason...I saw that filthy little conspiratorial ring of yours.”
With a disgusted, flaky look the dried out little chain smoker walked away. Peter watched her sit down near a man from the county road-repair crew at a booth nearby and strike up a new conversation.
“I firmly believe all those unions are involved with the movement to cover up the fact that what we think are aliens are actually Freemasons,” she said, shaking the flaky little bits of dead skin out of her sweater. “No one really knows what they're up to in their labor temples, you know.”