This is NOT makeup to wear if you ARE an Evil Overlord.

Of course, if you are an Evil Overlord, you figured out your makeup a long time ago and have slaves of your favored gender and species to apply it.... snap. If you were looking for instructions for Evil Overlord makeup, you are nothing but a wanna be, nyahh, nyahh.

This morning I have to apply makeup because I have to go to the Big City to check in with the Evil Overlords. It is a pain in the ass. They are pissed because they think I am working against Cthulhu. So I have to check in every three months for two years and pay these fuckers for the privilege.

It is hard being a lizard and passing for human on Earth. I have a public job in a small town, so I have to use energy to pass all the time. I am good at passing, because we happen to have some human blood. I got very sick last year and my aura started flickering. I was so sick that I went to a human emergency room. That, you say, was stupid. Of course. Humans try so hard to see what they expect, yet when the woman before them keeps flickering and having pale green glowing scales and hair that is pale metallic silver, they get a little nervous. They reported me to the authorities. I was hauled over the coals, off to the nearest Big City and Cthulhu's idiot minions enjoyed tongue lashing me.

At six months I hand the Head Minion my disability insurance. His face turns white as paper, almost as pale as mine, but without the pale green tinge. "I can't fill this out for humans. I would have to tell them about Cthulhu!"

I smile very sweetly. "I am sorry, but I beg to differ." I flutter my lashes. "You can put that you are monitoring me but I have a lizard disease."

"Lizard disease."

"I have an abnormal CT scan, abnormal pulmonary tests, abnormal bronchoscopy. I have now seen five specialists."

"I don't fill this out."

"You are the one who said I couldn't work. You explain why."

There is an appalled silence.

"I might need your medical records."

"Would you like me to sign some releases of information?"


He is realizing how badly he's screwed up in ignoring my medical complaints. I have carefully waited until I have medical evidence that will convince any human. I am enjoying his discomfort mightily. He reports to Cthulhu, of course, but I don't. Lizards report directly to the Overlord. Well, that's what Cthulhu's minions think. They hate us, partly because of that and partly because we're female. Cthulhu seems to choose male operatives, though I am not sure why. The rumors from Cthulhu's parties would imply that Cthulhu likes to give and receive, but either no one has survived or they aren't letting on. Except the humans that go mad, they are pretty noisy about the whole thing.

Lizards are bi, of course, but it's none of your business whether I am bi or one of the one-sex minority.

Anyhow, on Earth we are female and independent operatives. I am an outlier because I am working in such a conservative public job. I don't know why Cthulu's operatives discriminate against women, whether it's just the influence of the stupid earth society or whether Cthulhu enjoys causing strife or whether the hormones around us fuck us up. The Minion was not planning to let me work again ever, but now he drops me like a hot potato and I return to work. It's nice having disability insurance directly from the Overlord. I've been paying for it for 25 years out of my take home. Cthulu's folks don't dare keep tonguing me. They still make me pay a fee and check in every three months. I have to rein my temper in. Part of that is the makeup.

I bathe luxuriously and put a gentle hand made avacado and coconut oil mix on my delicate scales. I don't use a foundation. It's my aura that makes the humans see me as one of them. I use white pencil on my lower lid, innocence. Blue on my upper, lightly. A grey shadow, in the crease, with a pale pink above. Black mascara, not the blue or green, upper lashes only. I see patients in the morning, drive across the bridge thankful that I'm not delayed by a ship or nuclear submarine, leave my car parked and go on the ferry. I slip and fall going from the car to the ferry. On the ferry I apply the final touch: pink lipstick. I walk the three blocks up to third and take the bus up town. I walk through the doors three minutes before my appointment. I am in a blue wool suit, floor length duster raincoat over it, conservative "human colored" hose and low heeled but feminine shoes.

The Head Minion does not meet with me. I meet only with his lackey. For thirty minutes. She says that we can skype in 3 months and meet in person three months after that.

I leave and start walking back to the ferry. It is spit raining. I slip again and that's it. I go straight to a shop and buy tall grey boots. I want to stomp the head minion. I want to be highly paid as his dominatrix and torture him, and if I am in a very good mood, I may let him lick the tip of one boot. I go have a drink and then start the long trip home. Someday....


Simon Lynge The future

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