I remember waking up on a metal surgical table in a futuristic-looking operating room. Some kind of alien creature stood in front of me. He--for lack of a better word--was very thin, with long skinny arms and legs. He had a huge bald head with two big eyes. There was something familiar about him.
"Mayor Cook, is that you?" I asked. It looked just like the former mayor of El Paso, TX.
The creature chuckled menacingly, reached up , and with long, delicate fingers pulled off its Mayor Cook mask. I couldn't tell the difference. I looked around. There were two more of its kind, whatever its kind was. They reminded me of The Three Stooges, but from outer space.
"Don't be afraid," the alien I thought of as Moe gently told me. "We will not harm you."
His words seemed to come--not from him--but from somewhere deep inside my own head. There was a whirring sound above me. A large, intimidating tool was descending from the ceiling. I can't describe what it looked like in a family newspaper, but it was longer than it was wide, if you get my drift. Sort of like the business end of an enema bag for Transformers.
"What's that for?" I asked. Larry, Curly, and Moe nudged each other childishly and giggled like naughty first-graders.
"It's an anal probe, but it's better if you don't ask any questions."
I shivered at his words... and that's when I discovered I could move. I sat up and hopped off the table. They rushed toward me. Too late.
"How do you talk without speaking?" I asked.
"From here," Moe pointed to the center point between his eyes, "we push our thoughts into your mind."
"Oh, you do, do you?" And--POW!--I punched him right in the kisser. The back of his balloon-like head stretched out in the shape of my fist. Moe made a funny kind of "woo, woo, woo" sound, and fell to his knees faster than Monica Lewinski in the Oval Office. The other two jumped into each other's arms. Their big bug eyes blinking furiously. They were more nervous than a gerbil in a San Franciscan pet store. I'm guessing this had never happened to them before. I looked at them. They looked fragile. Weak.
"This is gonna be easy," I thought to myself.
Apparently they could also read my mind, because one of them said: "Wait! How will you get back home?" I reached up and grabbed the anal probe.
Let's just say I "convinced" them to take me back.
So what am I saying? I'm saying go to the UFO Festival in Roswell, NM.
You never know what might happen.
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