Nostradamus Was an Alien

The orthodontist gets off on the torture
Provides wheelchairs to the victimized
Plus a lollipop but only lemon flavored.
He’s an old man, so old he just might’ve
Escaped that notorious scorched-earth regime
Back in the fascism of obvious dictators
Guys with bad haircuts and worse digestion.
Acts of desperation often lead to carelessness
Flying goats across enemy borders, misremembering
Passcodes to stashed vaults, sans parachutes or
Even airbags; remaining an issue today in simulation.
In his walnut-paneled office, the old man ruminates;
Sadly, the experiments were suspended due to
Survival mechanism and drained expense accounts:
Blaming hit-and-miss on the invading authorities.
High on nitrous and gentleman’s club well-juice
The hygienist confides to her dog-collared bestie
Says, He too old to make a move, but whoever heard
Of a toothless dentist anyway? Hip-hop pumping
Through the air-conditioning unit, pollutants swirling
Amidst casual conversation, bindles of finely-ground
Rhinoceros tusk palmed under the cocktail tables.
Erosion nearly complete, lying in rivers and streams
The stones in my mouth quit picking up Morse code.
Vagrant veteran, I’m a prime candidate, so the old boy
Croaks, "I vill count, zehn auf null, and you vill sleeeep…"