It was five years in the future. We had moved from the dregs of the southwest (
Albuquerque), to some small town in the middle of the woods. As it turns out, the new neighbor is a slightly off-kilter fellow who has spent the last fifteen years of his life broadcasting the
Beach Boys into the depths of space. The guy believed that if the aliens could hear "Pet Sounds" in its entirety (along with "Good Vibrations"), the
little green men would immeadiately make contact with mankind.
And, as it turns out, he was right. A few days after moving into the house, I looked out the window and noticed a large flying saucer hanging out directly over my neighboor's shack.
Ack!
For several days, the world waited and watched for any sign of life from the ship. Amazingly enough, the media did not camp out in my front yard to capture the historic moment. Instead, everyone gave the visitors space. Even the Fox Mulders of the world hung back.
And then the ship moved over my house.
Double ack!
The fear settled in on me like a fog. I was scared of my toothbrush, the carpeting, my friend's video game. Of course, it didn't help that CNN was reporting that the ship's hatch had opened, but the aliens had yet to make an appearance.
And then, I could sense the presense of something in my house. And that something wasn't happy. I knew that I was just another plant to be collected by some warped E.T., and picking time was here.
My bedmate reports that I awoke moaning and babbling about the aliens, the Beach Boys and my toothbrush.
I've been wandering around with a slight chill all day. I just can't shake it.