The other night, I fell asleep on the couch. I was awakened around midnight by a car's headlights shining into the living room. "Yet another young couple mistaking our drive for Lovers-Lane," I grumbled as I stumbled out the door to chase them off.
I was annoyed at the understanding that I would enjoy no more sleep that night, but the evening was to become frighteningly disturbing.
As I approached the Mini Cooper, I could see four heads inside the vehicle. I thought about the make-out cars of my youth, and was feeling a little sorry for these kids as I approached the driver’s side window to admonish the occupants. As the driver lowered his window I looked inside the car. I wanted to run, and I tried, but was unable to move.
Inside the car were four big-headed, bug-eyed, grey-skinned, no-nosed, slit-mouthed – Spacemen! This was doubly disturbing because I was powerless to escape, and I could hear the spacemen’s thoughts as if they were my own.
The driver had the largest head (I’ll call him Big-Head) and was the one who addressed me… telepathically, and in English, with a French-Canadian accent.
Big-Head… telepathically: Slave-earthling, what is your name?
Me… thinking: I’m Scared!
Big-Head… telepathically: (These earthling names get weirder all the time.) Scared, direct me to the nearest dairy farm.
Me…nothing: Though I think I may have pointed before I fainted there in the driveway.
When I came to they were gone.
As panicked as I was, I knew I had to call someone to report what I had seen. Who to call? Homeland Security? NASA? National Geographic? I decided the Air Force would be a good place to start.
I ran into the house and grabbed the phone. I thought I would call the operator in order to be promptly connected. As I put the phone to my ear and was about to dial “O” I heard a soft voice ask, “May I help you?”
Startled, I replied, “Is this the operator?”
“This is the United States Alien Detection and Tracking Service, a division of the Department of Agriculture. What can I do for you?"
“I just saw four spacemen in my driveway! They were driving a Mini Cooper!”
“No you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did! They’re gone now. I passed out; I don’t know how long I was out. You’d better hurry!”
“We know all about it. The situation is being dealt with.”
It was then that I realized I wasn’t saying anything aloud, and I could hear the phone’s dial tone ringing in my ear. The whole conversation was taking place in my head!
“It’s you, isn’t it!” I screamed (in my head).
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, I know it’s you! Listen Big-Head…”
That’s all I remember. I must have passed out again. When I came to, it was morning and I was back on the couch.
That’s where my wife found me. She says it was just a bad dream, and advised that I lay off the nachos and bean dip. I think she suspects there's something to the story, but is taking advantage of the opportunity to alter my eating habits for her own selfish purposes. She may be right, or maybe she’s one of them.
I stopped eating bean dip, for now. I’m also maintaining a focused vigil whenever I see a Mini Cooper roll by.