“CABO DIABLO”-    AN ELVIS MELLON -ADVENTURE.

Copyright 2007.


LOCATION- “Earth” –current timeline- 2007 a.d- (relatively-)

The mysterious island of Cabo Diablo in the Bermuda Triangle does not give up its secrets
easily. The history of this island is sketchy at best and few who have gone there willingly
have returned. It is not known exactly when the United States first set up a clandestine
military base and listening post there but it is assumed sometime in the last 10 to 15 years
there have been exploratory missions there. For our readers who have already read some of
the intercepted transmissions and files pertaining to Elvis Mellon’s involvement with this
island you will know he was operating as a voluntary “ambassador” and liaison to the
Galactic Confederation-Alliance as a sort of “free agent.”  

The Galactic confederation ( * see – “An explanation” and or “A Foreword”  in  directory-
menu on website .)  had established a secret relationship with the United nations and certain
leading world powers on Earth including factions of the United States Government not
under the influence of “Shadow governments” –of those members of the secret societies
such as the Illuminati-and those planning the new world order- actually secretly controlled
by the   Draco Reptilian extratestrials and their underlings and errand boys the Grays.
Knowing Earths ancient history with the members of the Galactic alliance and humanities
origins as the hybrid children of 5 star races of the alliance – the alliance knew that the
previous great world civilization – the now destroyed and nearly forgotten Atlantis still had
remnants of its technology half buried in the sands at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean – in
the Triangle and parts of the Caribbean among other places and Cabo Diablo was not only a
splinter of the now sunk Lost continent but the focal point of a strange space/time vortex
caused by an Atlantean built space/time machine- portal-  similar to an E.M Star –gate.

This technology was built into an underwater –under the sea floor volcanic fissure and
powered by geothermal energy. 13,000 years after the final destruction of Atlantis the
space/time vortex was still up and running at the bottom of the Ocean and underneath the
Island of  Cabo Diablo- at the heart of the Bermuda triangle. Though the Earth was a
quarantined world and considered an off limits barbaric frontier world by the citizens of the
Galactic alliance and watched and patrolled by Alliance ships of the Sirians, Plaedians,
Orions, Lyrans-etc  - occasionally the Draco and Grays ran the blockade and established
temporary bases and footholds on the planet and one such base was an underwater operation
off shore of Cabo Diablo where the Draco hoped to capture the Atlantean technology and its
discover its secrets and use the space/time vortex- a U.F.O portal to their own negative ends.

The island was with in U.S waters and about 40 miles due north of Puerto Rico and the U.S  
Government had hoped to discover the Atlantean technology for themselves until the
Galactic alliance reps made themselves known. We will not discuss here the implications of
those first meetings with President Jimmy Carter who was aware of earlier Alliance and U.S
government meetings during the Second World War. The actual base established by the U.S
military, members of the U.N ( for observation purposes only ) and Galactic alliance
members with an Earth liaison known only as “Mr. X” a mercenary/soldier of fortune with
no allegiances except to  the all mighty dollar and himself  he was selected exactly for those
reasons. Mr. X and his team of hand picked mercenary’s worked hand in hand with
members of the U.S military- Army, Navy, Marines, Air force, Navy seals and special
forces along with Black Ops and Majestic 12 and C.I.A reps and Galactic alliance
personnel.  

The Alliance provided trained and specially bred “Chubacabras” ( Spanish –Earth language-
Latin based- means “Goat sucker” ) and off world creature- extratestrials biological unit-  
“112 97-k – From the area of Altaire # 3 – these fearsome creatures- some who have gained
a foothold on Earth also but as stowaways from  the ancient Atlantean colonies where they
were domesticated for temple guardians and “watch dogs” and security.  Cabo Diablo ( * see
page one of intercepted  transmissions as intercepted by the HMS Lancaster and Russian  
Typhoon class sub “The  Leningrad” – and C.I.A documentation on CABO DIABLO-
pages one thru 9 on the Elvis Mellon website- )

The military base- and scientific laboratory and  other facilities is patrolled by these
chubacabras as well as U.S military personal and Mr. X’s team of mercenary’s and even
Galactic alliance personnel.  Our hero Elvis Mellon has taken temporary leave of his gig as
a pirate radio station dj at  Non station K.L.S.D  to represent the Galactic confederation as
a former resident of Earth ( as a favor to the Alliance President because he owed her big
time and had a brief dalliance with before she was elected ) and he brought along another
former resident of Earth and former Black ops and military-special forces member- Colonel
T.P Sommo. The island has been the center of legend and myth and wild stories from the
strange occurrences associated with the triangle- ghost ships and phantom lights and sea
monsters and U.F.O’s and the disappearances of countless ships and planes. The Cabo
Diablo facilities also contain holding and observation cells and quarantine area’s and
medical facilities for the many “lost” individuals and groups of both human and on human
beings and creatures and YOU NAME IT- that come through the vortex from different
times and places on both the Earth and the rest of the Multi-verse and other time lines.   ( *
See intercepted transmissions and documents on “Cabo Diablo” pages 1 to present- on Elvis
Mellon website )

The main purpose of this secret base is to explore Cabo Diablo and the strange
phenomenon associated with it and to use it as a jumping off point in stopping the Draco and
Grays from completing their underwater base and acquiring the Atlantean technology.
While this is going on there will also be captured Draco and Grays to study and Elvis
Mellon with Colonel T.P Sommo and various members of Elvis’s band and the crew of his
star ship the “Visigoth” are racing against time to stop the evil forces from achieving their
goal. In the last several years the waters and beaches and jungles of Cabo Diablo its
personnel have seen everything from 17th century Pirates to 12TH CENTURY Knights
Templar, Samurai, Sea Monsters, Aliens, castaways, World war Two German U-Boats and
their crews, Surfers,spys, -YOU NAME IT- walking and swimming and crawling along-   
You never know who or what will show up on CABO DIABLO!!!.  WITH THAT SAID-  
We now bring you excerpts and pages from “TALES OF CABO DIABLO”-


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TALES OF CABO DIABLO-  AN ELVIS MELLON ADVENTURE

A QUINN MARTIAN PRODUCTION

THIS EPISODE-  “BEEF ; ITS WHATS FOR DINNER”

PAGE ONE

Ilse Larsen, Swedish born contract photographer for the National Enquirer, Daily Mirror,
and other supermarket tabloids, entered beneath the blackness of the jungle canape. She
nimbly gathered several fallen palm fronds from the forest floor, and made her way swiftly
and cat-like back into the stark moonlight and down the beach, to the surf that she had only
moments earlier emerged from. Moments later, after erasing her tracks from the sand of the
deserted island beach, she re-entered the undergrowth and searched out a suitable spot to
leave her wet suit, snorkel and fins. Her plan to gain access to the island was brilliant, if
only for it's simplicity. She had purchased the older but seaworthy twenty foot sailing sloop
from a marina in Cocoa Beach, Florida back in March.  She outfitted the vessel comfortably
for the voyage to Puerto Rico. All she had to do then, was seduce and subsequently share
her bed several afternoons a week with the very married Carl Smith, NASA technician.  
Getting Carl to do her bidding was a piece of cake. He was  intelligent and bookish, and he
lived on a boring street, in a boring house with a boring wife. He had never in his wildest
dreams dared to imagine that he could attract, much less have an affair with a woman like
Ilsa, whom he had met as Tina in isle number five of a Port Canaveral A & P.


She was nearly three inches taller than him, and shared the same body type as youthful
Shannon Tweed, with a strikingly similar features, only softer. She had been dressed in a
skimpy red number, cut low in the front, her soft blond hair curled softly onto her
shoulders. When she seductively bent down oh-so-slowly in front of him to retrieve a can of
cling peaches from a stack on the low shelf, he thought his head would explode. She engaged
him in small talk, and he could hardly resist the temptation to turn and see if the
conversation was meant for some unseen man standing behind him. They hit it off so
naturally, Carl thought, and she was even interested in his work with NASA, at Kennedy
Space Center. Most women found this to be impossibly boring, but not Tina. They carried
their conversation through the check out line, and across the street, and down the block to a
Starbucks. He loved how she took so much genuine interest in hearing details of how he was
particularly instrumental in the governmental research and development of CADRA 17, the
brush-on quick drying liquid that had better cloaking properties that the formula that was
used on the second generation Black-Hawks. He was amazed how her soft china-blue eyes
sparkled when he boasted how practically anything could be painted with it, and go virtually
undetected by the latest surveillance systems. He thought he would faint, when she slid her
hand under the little coffee table, over his knee, to rest in his lap. He knew at that moment
he had been firmly hooked.

Ilsa unzipped the front of her wet-suit and deftly stepped out of it, feeling the welcome sea
breeze on her naked body. She bent and opened the dry-bag that contained her cameras and
equipment, and rummaged through it until she had found the full body leotard that had been
impregnated with a healthy soaking of CADRA 17. She could honestly say that she wasn't
overly fond of the residual odor that came from cloth after it had been saturated with it. She
didn't notice it when it had been applied to hard surfaces, which was everything she planned
on taking onto the island. She rolled the black garment as to step into it and as she inserted
a foot, was when she felt herself wrenched backwards by a neck hold, and the firm grasp of
someone pinning her legs and raising them off the ground and into the air, as if she was a
bundled parcel. She struggled in vain against the chloroform soaked rag that was roughly
placed to cover her nose and mouth. As the effects began to take hold of her, she felt her

muscles go limp and she slid to the sandy forrest floor. Through fading vision she saw two
men dressed in army style fatigue type uniforms briefly hovering over her, and she heard as
if in an echoing distant voice "This one got pretty far inside the perimeter. Police-up her
equipment and grab the long rope from the jeep. Shame we can't keep her for our own fun,
but Mr. X would have our asses if he caught us playing with the civilians again. Oh well...
sigh... grab her ankles, and well take her over to the clearing.  Beef... it's what's for dinner!"  
Ilsa slid into a soft blackness as she felt herself floating, as if on a soft warm cloud.
The Chupa Cabra tagged with Identification Number Alpha Hotel 24497 but who was
referred to by his "pet" name of Rollo by the breeders quartered on the island, was awakened
by the sound of a jeep departing off in the distance. He was bigger and more heavily
muscled then his peers and easily controlled, or ruled rather, this section of island. He
came to his feet and in an unhurried deliberate gate, made his way along the sandy path,
down towards the clearing about a quarter of a mile north of where he usually slept. His
excitement  grew as he edged his way close to where the green humanoids would
occasionally leave him something.


Even though he had been genetically programmed to enjoy the physical act of hunting for his
sustenance, and he was much more expert at it than most, he always enjoyed simply being
left something. He caught the first whiff of something in his flared nostrils, that wafted in to
him on the breeze that drifted from the area near the beach. His senses became sharper,
and his excitement grew more intense as the smell of something became stronger the closer
he came. He switching "on" to his stalking mode, although it wasn't really necessary as
something never required to be chased down, and could never, ever,  hide from him. He
broke into a soft noiseless trot as he came within sight of the mouth of the clearing. There
was no mistaking the location now, of something. He now detected it fully and powerfully,
and savored its pungent sweet softness, that was deliciously mixed with the sweat of
unmistakable fear. It made him practically swoon, as glistening saliva, silver in the full
moonlight, dripped from his cheeks to land as droplets in the sand of the pathway that
passed beneath his feet.

Ilse was groggily awakened by the throbbing pain in her wrists as well as an extreme
numbness in her hands. As she regained her faculties, she came to the realization that she
was suspended by her wrists, which where bound together high above her head. She could
relieve the pressure and aching numbness in her hands, only by arching her back and
standing on her tip-toes, on a rough planked wooden platform that was beneath her feet. As
the last effects of the chloroform left her, she became more focused on her surroundings.
She was in the middle of a jungle clearing, bound from above to something that was almost
gallows like in its construction. She felt especially vulnerable, as the pale ivory whiteness of
her entire body shone almost with surreal luminescence, and in stark contrast to the various
shades of gray that composed the edges of the clearing. She felt as completely vulnerable as
the proverbial fly on the wall. As she started to compose her thoughts and center on

formulating a way to free herself, she noticed movement in her peripheral vision, at the
mouth of the clearing. She watched with confusion as a figure that did not entirely appear
humanoid raised itself from the dense growth of Oleander and Rhododendron and began
running quickly towards her from about one hundred and twenty-five yards distance. She
began to squirm as she desperately attempted to free herself from the coil of rope that held
her in firmly dangling in place.


Rollo raised from behind the cover of underbrush that had concealed him from being seen
by something. He had circled it several times in wide sweeping arcs within the jungle,
coming to view it from back at the mouth of the clearing.  After he could no longer contain
his hunger, he stepped into the clearing an began his approach. His keen vision, even at
night and at a distance, was locked onto and sizing up something. He would be "on"
something in a just mere moments and would begin by biting into and compressing the neck,
while opening the soft white belly with one or two slashes from razor-like claws on the feet.
After gravity had done its job, all he had to do was enjoy the warm steaming feast that would
fall, in pinata-like fashion, on to the wooden platform..
With Rollo closing in at twenty yards, Ilse thought she detected a metallic click from behind
her....

TO BE CONTINUED  (Moo-oo-ah-ah-ahhhhhhh)

Ilse couldn't relax her gaze which was frozen on the hulking reptilian-like creature that was
almost upon her. She swore the click that she heard from behind her sounded very much
like that of a bullet being jacked into the chamber of a rifle. The creature bounded to within  
four feet of her and stopped . To her horror, she saw the thing before her was about her
height, but would be taller if it had stood fully erect. It's facial features were nearly dog-like,
but devoid of any fur. It's body was a mottled pattern of  what in the daylight might appear
to be brown and muted green. She became transfixed on it's eyes, which gazed back at her
glowing a goldish yellow, with black oval slits for pupils, much like those of a cat. It had
smallish rounded ears that were positioned tightly to the sides if its head. Again, she heard
the metallic click from behind her. Damn it, she thought, why doesn't he just shoot! The two
stood riveted before each other, the creature appearing to be tightly coiled and ready to


strike, the blond photographer on tip-toes with her arms stretched fully above her extended
by the rope, utterly naked and defenseless before it in the light of the full moon that showed
brightly above them both.  Slowly, the creature eased it's way, almost snake-like to within a
foot of her. She smelled an odor from it that reminded her of the goats her uncle had raised
in rural Sweden, when they would come back to the barn after being caught in a heavy rain.
It was a feral musky smell, clinging heavily in the night air. Again, she heard the resilient
unmistakable sound of a metallic click. The creature shifted its gaze for a split fraction of a
second to something behind her, then back on to her. It's eyes narrowed to slits and it

opened it's mouth wide, menacingly revealing  jagged rows of multiple two inch fangs,
dripping and rooted both top and bottom. It began to hiss throatily like a broken steam
valve, and it drooled heavily from the corners of it's angular mouth. From the back of it's
shoulder blades, large wings slowly unfolded and spread out in an eight foot horizontal span.
Again, she heard the click. Unable to contain herself she screamed "FOR GOD'S SAKE,
JUST SHOOT IT!!!" She craned her head back to see that what she had been hearing, which
was simply a rotted untethered lanyard blowing in the breeze; it's metal block occasionally
coming into contact with a metal cleat mounted on the deck of the scaffold, with a scraping
and resounding click.


This is when Chupa Cabra Number Alpha Hotel 24497, known as Rollo, effortlessly leaned
forward and engulfed her throat in his jaws, while holding her by the shoulders and locked
into her with a  single flap of its wings, solidifying it's hold. In a deft motion he raised a
razor talloned  foot to beneath her breast bone, and in one sweeping downward motion
opened an eighteen inch split that ended a few inches below her navel.  The last earthly  
sensation Ilsa Larsen had was of Rollo releasing her from his grasp, and lowering himself to
press his muzzle into her body, were he hungrily began at once to feed.

Forty minutes later, the dull green '48 Hudson four door bumped slowly into the clearing
and stopped with it's headlights playing on the wooden scaffold-like structure that contained
the grizzly scene. With the motor running, a  figure wearing a Hawaiian print  shirt and a
brimmed sweat-stained fedora hat, stepped from the vehicle and began to survey what was in
the headlamps before him. He lit a Salem from a crumpled pack, and thought "Damn,...  
Henderson and that pain-in-the-ass Johnson were right. This one had been a looker.  Hell,
even if we had kept her on though, she probably would have raised all manner of crap trying
to get shots of the camp to make her fortune with. Friggin' Paparazzi are all the same. Stab
you in the back for a nickle." He eyed the foot prints in the surrounding sand. Rollo, he
thought to himself. After the others came in to feed, he'd have to send a crew in to clean up
what was left, which wouldn't be much, to be incinerated in the Reactor Core. Nothing
would get much sleep in this part of the jungle tonight, when those damned things get going.
He adjusted his hat, flicked the Salem to the sand, and climbed back in behind the wheel of
the Hudson. As he eased the shift lever into reverse, and threw his arm over the seat back,
he said to no one in particular, "Welcome to Cabo Diablo, honey... welcome to Cabo
Diablo."





THE following day-


"Damn it Johnson! Wake up!!! I think we might be in deep shit! They just brought Alpha
Hotel 64981 in on a back of a truck, ya know, Barney... the one with the purple scar on his
head that kinda looked like a lightning bolt. Well anyway, he's dead as dog shit!!! Fucking
thing choked on a pink Cha-cha pump! No shit, the fuckin' thing got stuck down his throat,
and now he's stiff as a Goddamn board! I told you, damn it, to police up everything before
we left the clearing the other night! Christ!!! You know what those friggin' things cost??? I'm
not worried about X taking it out of our pay, I'm worried about him taking it out of our
ass!!! God damn it, wake UP!!!"

(Meanwhile, on the other side of the compound...)


"Memo to Smoky:
Request approval for requisition of two drums, fifty gallons each, of Hydrochloric Acid,
31.5 percent. Please insure it specifically arrives in two separate drums, and is included
with the next scheduled supply drop.

Further request of two additional humanoid perimeter personnel, trained and outfitted with
basic issue.

Thank you and be sure to give Elvis my warmest regards,  
Mr. X."      
TALES OF CABO
DIABLO PAGE # 2
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