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The Promised Proof

Author : Tino Pezzimenti ©

It all started with a phone call late one evening. The man on the other end, Mr A, was contacting one person from each UFO group in the area to see whether they would be interested in hearing from a person who was being contacted by an extraterrestrial on a regular basis. “Oh no” I thought to myself. “Here we go again!”

Now, for the sake of the uninitiated out there, I must explain my reaction. You see, this is not something new to a UFO investigator, and I am sure that many other people like myself out there are contacted often by people making such claims, and all of them say that they will prove it…. Soon.

So, how many have actually proven this to me? Not most. Not some. In fact none. Zero. Zilch. So I kindly mentioned this to Mr A, and his response was: “Well, this will be the last time you think such thoughts because (wait for it)…. it will be proven to you once and for all!”

At this point I decided to question Mr A as to who was actually being contacted, because up till now I had gotten the impression that it wasn’t him, and if not, what exactly was his part in all this. His response was that in fact it was Mr B who was receiving these messages, and that his role was as ‘organiser’. All of a sudden those alarm bells in my head started ringing, again. To me, an organiser is just another name for manager, agent, and so on. But maybe I was being too sceptical too soon. More questions were needed. How would I know that this would be the real thing?

I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and see where it all ended. After all, I would not forgive myself if I decided to stay home and watch Ally McBeal on TV while the first ‘open contact’ was being made just a few minutes drive from my house!!

“All was to be revealed at this special meeting of interested parties.” So was I in or was I out? Wow! All was to be revealed! A thousand questions flowed through my mind… Where would this historic even take place? City Hall? King George Square? NO. it was all going to be revealed at a church hall in Caboolture, a town just north of Brisbane. I suppose it’s not that bad. It would have been very hard to find a carpark in the city anyway.

So, Caboolture it was, on a Monday night, at 7.30pm. “Yes Mr A. I will come, and I look forward to meeting this Mr B, the contactee.” “Oh, there is just one thing. Mr B would not be there.” Another thousand thoughts flooded through my mind. “He is sending me there to feel the water, so to speak,” Mr A said.

“What?! We are the ones who are supposed to be feeling the bloody water, not him!” I protested. Mr A explained that Mr B had been let down before and doesn’t want to waste his time again. “You can understand that, can’t you?” My thoughts returned to the Ally McBeal show I would miss that night. “Oh, well, as long as we don’t waste his time.” Just then, in an unprecedented wave of foresight, I demanded the proof he had promised earlier, to be shown to me on the night or I would let everyone know about this waste of time. “I will bring you undeniable proof on Monday night,” he said. “I’ll be there,” I replied.

I honestly didn’t expect too much to happen that night, but it would not be a complete waste of time because it would give me the opportunity to meet other researchers, and also I could observe how this whole plan was to be played out. In other words, I was curious. However, I must not have been completely un-believing, because on the way up I discovered I was suffering from the ‘what-ifs’.

What if I was handed proof?

What if he really was a contactee?

What if open contact was imminent?

Before I knew it, I had arrived. Just like the feeling of missing time many abductees have reported! I must have been deep in my thoughts.

I found the hall and approached cautiously, wondering who else would be there. Just then, I heard the sounds of punching, yelling, gasping and kicking – just like in that old Batman TV series. You know, Biff… Pow…. Ouch… or similar to the sounds of the Valley on a Friday night. “My God!” I thought, “I’m too late, and the other researchers have already set upon Mr A for making them miss an episode of Ally McBeal for nothing!” But no, I was mistaken. I was early and the hall was still being used by a Tae Kwon Do class. Relief. But I did notice some people lurking in the bushes. Ah! The other researchers! I could tell they were researchers because they were lurking in the bushes. So I picked a bush and lurked for a while.

The ‘self inflicted injury’ class ended and we all moved into the hall. Mr A introduced himself and gave each of us some handouts. I looked around for a sign of my promised proof – like a plasma conduit or a small grey bald person with large eyes and an emotionless face. Then I thought of my uncle Leo. He would fit that description exactly, so I continued looking for the conduit. I saw nothing.

After a little small talk, I politely asked Mr A if he had remembered to bring my proof. “Oh yes,” he said. Just then an eerie silence fell upon the small group of nine. I was handed some photographs and sketches. Close examination of these items left me shocked, speechless, stiff and full of wonder. I wondered why I was handed a copy of the old George Adamski scoutship photo, arguably the most famous – as well as the most common – UFO photograph in the world. But I decided to play along. “Are you impressed?” I was asked. I couldn’t very well lie to him, so I told him what I thought: “I don’t know what to say,” I murmured. “Oh, good,” he replied.

Upon reading the handouts, my attention was drawn to a particular sentence. Mr B was looking for volunteers, or more correctly, the ‘UFO Intelligence’ had instructed him to seek out helpers to assist him in the coming months to prepare the world for their arrival. For me, the more correct term should have been ‘applicant’, because if we wanted in we would have to fill out an application form! One of the requirements was that the applicant had to be single and with no ties. It suddenly dawned on me that I would have to either quit right now or get rid of the wife somehow. While I sat there giving this some thought, a question popped into my head… I wonder what that zany McBeal was doing right now? No, seriously, the question was a simple WHY? Mr A had an answer. It was quite simple really. If I were chosen to be taken away with these beings, what would I do if my wife protested and would not let me go. To me that was the easiest question of the night….. I’d have to stay home. It just wasn’t fair.

Mr A gave my question some thought and another eerie silence fell upon the group. He looked over to me, and in a serious, authoritative voice said… “Oh alright, you can come too.” Great! I can put the rat poison away!

The idea of having a group of followers – sorry, I mean volunteers – was to prepare a landing site, build a very large UFO, and inform the media as well as the masses that the time was near.

The launch pad was to be built in a valley so that the millions of people that didn’t make the cut could watch and wave goodbye to the ‘saved ones’ as the earth burns around them. “But the people won’t come! They won’t believe you!” I exclaimed. Mr A replied “yes, they will when in the months leading to the blastoff, people will see UFO’s hovering over Mr B while he does the shopping! They will stand in awe and ask ‘who is that man?’ The masses will then follow him around asking questions and wanting answers.”

Apparently Mr B will convince the rest of the world by inviting the world media to a pre-arranged area to witness a UFO at close range. Well, ‘invite’ may not be the right word here, because there will be an admission charge for them to enter the site. “Why?” I had to ask. “Do you know how much it costs to build a giant flying saucer?” I must admit, he had me there.

The one thing that was very obvious to me during the whole evening was that even when a UFO was at close range, Mr B saw himself as the centre of attention, NOT the craft itself. The people would as him questions. They would follow him. He was the only human on this planet that was being contacted by extraterrestrials. Only he had the answers – do not listen to anyone else.

Yes, this whole story sounds quite humorous, but believe me when I say that to the many serious groups and individuals out there that have put in a lot of time and effort into the study of UFO’s, a scenario like this one does Ufology no good at all. How can the average person take us seriously when people like Mr A and Mr B, or even C, make headlines in the local papers. In fact, it saddens me because of the nine people or so that attended the meeting, I was the only one really questioning this master plan. Most of the others seemed quite happy to go along with it. Happy to finally be saved and taken off this third rock from the sun.

Anyway, I would like to tell you much more of what went on that night, but Ally McBeal is about to start….

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