It was early in the morning, around four. I had been asleep for several hours when I was awoken by a bright light enveloping my rundown beach condo. The last thing I remember – opening the front door in my nightwear Hawaiian shorts and clip-clops, shaking at the thought of what I was about to witness. I was expecting my neighbour Gary, the recently divorced lighthouse enthusiast, pulling up into the front condo car park in his old Camaro with more miles on its clock than my nightwear poncho that I was also wearing. But Gary wasn’t there. Maybe it was aliens. Can’t be. There’s very little scientific evidence of such. The only scientific evidence is that mystery DNA found on a man after an ‘alien encounter’, which has been analysed by scientists and has left them baffled as to its origin. It was found on his penis. This thought made me quite horny…
What I next remember is waking up in a cold and sterile room. Across the way was a tall, thin being, with a very odd, bony and inhuman face. I thought it might be Paris Hilton. I was strapped to the bed. “I WANT A LAWYER, DAMMIT!” I argued. I didn’t get one. The thought occurred to me that I wasn’t sore, which was a good thing, because there’s only so much probing one man can take.
I didn’t have a whole heap of fun in that place. The being in the room never spoke, just observed like those observing things in Fringe. The being I was with didn’t have any such smart attire. In fact, the only thing it wore was a small loincloth type of clothing in the middle of its forehead. I tried so hard not to make any jokes. I was very cold and curious. I tried desperately to get a reaction out of the alien. My whole life I was the type who sat in the corner and was ignored. First contact with alienkind and it was still happening. I tried making noises, from every orifice. Didn’t work. I even tried sticking my tongue out. Didn’t work. I even managed to wriggle my foot until my flip-flop was at the end, and then proceeded to flick my foot upwards rather quickly, sending the flip-flop hurtling for the alien. It destroyed it with a ray gun. I was well gutted. That cost two quid…
It left me alone for some time. The room was bare, there weren’t even any windows. It was more barren than the inside of Paris Hilton’s head (he, he, he). I got bored. So I started to sing. YMCA by The Village People. As loud as I could. The alien suddenly ran into the room, but I kept singing. I was surprised what the alien did when I got to the chorus. With its arms, it spelt out YMCA! HOW DID IT KNOW WHAT THE VILLAGE PEOPLE WERE! I was so freaked out, I stopped singing. The alien was pissed off – it pointed its ray gun at me until I started singing again! Who knew The Village People would be the source of first contact?
The whole experience was mind-altering. I was starting to wonder if Gary’s ‘special plants’ had taken hold of the air conditioning again. But as soon as it began, my experience was over. The alien walked over to me during our little singsong, stroked my hair and put its ‘hand’ on my chest, over my heart. I felt a sudden jolt, like when you fall in your sleep and suddenly wake up. That’s what happened. I suddenly found myself standing at my front door, blinded by the lights of Gary’s Camaro. Was it all a dream? Did I behave as I should? Will anyone believe me? And why was it so damn cold in the middle of summer?
Oh, damn! I was actually sleeping naked!
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