Alien abduction refers to the phenomenon of people reporting what they believe to be the real experience of being kidnapped by extraterrestrial beings and subjected to physical and psychological experimentation…

Wikipedia

Was it yesterday?

Yeah, had to be.

I’m not letting any so called expert hypnotize my ass. I’m depending on my sharp memory dulled slightly by old age. Maybe a little more than slightly.

All night long Strange figures appear in my dream world. This Bum demands money. He says I owe him 300 bucks and I better pay up. Guy’s an anchor-out. The Cowboy Bum. He’s screaming at me to pay up. How can I owe him money? If anything he owes me money. If only I had my fish killer with me. I’d knock his ass out. A fog envelopes him and I’m working at Dairy Queen. I’m making soft ice cream cones but the machine overpours the cones with that soft shit spilling everywhere. The cones look like globules. Not nice swirly cones. I can’t get the hang of it. I can’t make the chocolate syrup dip properly. The boss is watching me. He takes me aside and says “kid, I don’t think you’re cut out for this job.”

Okay, now I’m on the street. Could be Taco Bell is hiring. They don’t serve soft ice cream cones.

What day is it?

I awaken, swing my legs off my rack, sit up.

I’m an old dude once more.

I’m thinking, WTF day is it? Is it Wednesday? Or Tuesday? How do you forget what day it is?

I got no work. That’s how. I helped my pal Normal Dude get a job with the free Booze Sample company I work for and they rewarded my efforts by giving him all my shifts. So I got no work. It’s around seven a.m., I think. Where’s my phone? I see through my window it’s light out.

I stagger up to my main salon. Stare through my port window at the abandoned boat. The Old Lady is long gone. The boat’s filling with rain water. Should that concern me? Any day now it’s gonna plunge to the bottom like a grinning corpse. Somebody needs to take charge of this situation. Now it’s raining. Jesus Fucking Christ. Another day in paradise…

Radio says more rain in the afternoon. It’s raining now.

They never get it right.

Gulls show up like clockwork. They aint working, either. Wait a minute. They are working. They’re working me.

It never ends.

“Open the hatch and give us food!”

I could reach for my fish killer. Or I could feed them.

Find the crackers.

I’m looking for crackers. I notice a strange looking dude on the dock.

Maybe one of the bottom cleaner dudes.

That’s a hell of a wetsuit he’s got on.

Well, none of my business. Where’s those crackers?

March 5th Tuesday around eleven

I’m sitting at my favorite chair at the office, watching a fly circle the air in front of me. Today is Super Tuesday. That means Trump will be closer to securing the Republican Candidacy For President Of The United States. Why am I writing this down? I know it. You know it. It’s as obvious as this column that helps to support the roof of the office.

How about a surprise now and then?

“The world is full of surprises,” the Lobotomy Dude says.

“How did you know what I was thinking?”

“You were thinking out loud.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not as if I can read your mind,” he says. “Only Zenu can read minds.”

“Zenu?”

“Zenu and the Thetans. The space aliens who conquered earth seventy five million years ago. They appear now and then just to make sure human beings are developing properly. L. Ron Hubbard spoke of them. But I’m afraid he misinterpreted their language. The Thetans are a benevolent race.”

“You’re sure of this?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve met with them. They appeared at my back door. I was abducted and probed. Then released. My memory of it was erased. It was only through hypnosis that I was able to recall the experience.”

“This was before your Lobotomy?”

“Shortly after.”

“I’m impressed.”

“They didn’t use me for breeding purposes. Some abductees they do. They breed with them and produce samplings of ourselves. Half-human forms that occupy space for a while, then melt away.”

“Like soft ice cream.”

“Exactly,” he says. “You sound as though you’ve been abducted yourself. I’ve often thought that of you.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. The Thetans dust their Abductees. It generates a specific aura. The dust evaporates but glimpses of it remain. Trace elements, as it were. Very hard to recognize. I’m not an expert. You may have been abducted. Now I’m examining you visually I’m almost convinced of it. They’ve probed you. Left tiny scars on your body. Of course you won’t remember. Until you’re hypnotized.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Oh, yes. By a licensed Hypnotherapist.”

Randal Churchill is founder of the Hypnotherapy Training Institute. They call this dude ‘the teacher of teachers.’ He’ll hypnotize your ass and leave you believing you were Genghis Khan’s kid brother before you were molested by Space Aliens and forced to breed jello wiggling copy cats that melt away after voting in GOP primary’s. This is why Polls are so unreliable these days.

Get ahold of Randal. He’s the real deal!

Just so you know, Space Alien abduction is real

Betty and Barney Hill, with their dog, Delsey

These two were abducted by space aliens. Happened way back in 1961. It was real. They were abducted and probed. Then released. Later under hypnosis they recalled the experience.

Chilling, don’t you think?

The Hills got pretty famous over the experience. A movie was made of their ordeal, called The U.F.O. INCIDENT starring James Earl Jones and Estelle Parsons. Check it out. That was a while back, nineteen eighty something. A remake is coming out, produced by Barack and Michelle Obama.

People love this shit.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh, yeah. Space Alien Abduction is real. Don’t take my word for it. Or the word of Betty and Barney. Read what this guy has to say.

John E. Mack.

This dude is no slouch. Head of the department of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School until the day he died in 2004. Won a Pulitzer prize. A genuine member of the exalted class of Ivy League Professorship. Tenured to the gills. As far from being a quack as you can get. The phenomenon of Space Alien Abduction absorbed his scholarly attention for several years. Wrote a couple books on the subject.

Anyway, just so you know I’m not making shit up.

I wouldn’t do that.

Is today Wednesday?

I’m sitting at my favorite table at the office. Staring at this kid in a tiger suite. He’s not a Space Alien, for christ’s sake. He’s just a kid.

Now I’m thinking about it, he could be a Space Alien, pretending to be a kid.

Naw….I’ve seen the Space Aliens. This kid is just a kid.

Are you sure? my mind asks.

This is what it’s come to. I’m freaking out after my experience with these rat’s ass Space Aliens.

They showed up at my Boat

I come awake after a night of untroubled sleep. In fact, I sleep seven hours straight. Which is kind of strange in itself. I come awake thinking Man! that was a restful sleep! I’m still an old ass beat up old man but I feel pretty good for a change. I feel so good, I think I’ll brew a nice hot cup of fresh coffee and drink it right here on Scruffy before heading off to the office where I’ll drink quarts of their shitty coffee. Maybe I’ll fill my Yeti mug with some coffee and sneak it into the office. Been a while since I did that trick.

I step up into my main salon and discover all my window coverings removed. Outside on the dock the Space Aliens are standing there, gazing in at me.

I’m feeling all shimmery and the boat’s shiny like a crazy fun house!

The glow fades and these dudes come into focus.

Gazing in at my ass…

One of them’s wearing a suit and tie.

“You must follow us,” suit and tie says. “You must register.”

He’s not talking. I hear it in my head. Like Telepathy kind of shit.

“No way I’m going with you.”

“You will accompany us to the space craft.”

“You kidding me?”

Now my legs are all rubbery and shit…like I can’t resist moving toward these fuckers. Follow them to the space pad, where they’ll examine my ass. Probe me with alien rods. Everything glowing like hell. I know this cuz I read up on it. That Psychiatrist, John Mack, he interviewed dozens of abductees. All of them tell the same story. The Space Aliens force us to go with them. To the space craft. Where they probe our asses. Force some of us to breed with their own. They’ll leave some scratches on my body. Scruff me up a little. Then they’ll erase the whole experience from my memory. Send me back to my life like nothing happened. Except now I got all this trauma bubbling under the surface. Inner child shit. Only it has nothing to do with my inner child. It’s Alien Abduction trauma…but what does any of this have to do with Registering?”

I’m trying to resist. But it’s hard. I’m having a real hard time resisting them. Tricky bastards. They’re tempting my ass with soft ice cream.

Man, I’d love one of those…dipped in chocolate.

Okay, man. I think you got me. I’m coming. Give me the cone and I’ll breed with an Alien woman.

“You are not a breeder, humanoid. Your extreme age and erectile dysfunction excludes you from that role. We need you to register.”

“What?”

“Register to vote Republican.”

“For Trump? For Donald Trump?”

“Yes. Follow us…”

“Wait a minute. Are you telling me Donald Trump is…”

“He is one of us.”

Trump’s a Space Alien?”

“He is one of us.”

“OMG! It’s clear to me now. Everything makes sense. I couldn’t see it because it was right in front of my nose. Donald Trump is not a human being like the rest of us. He’s a Space Being. And Malannia. She’s a Borg.”

“Clearly,” the Space Alien says.

I’m looking around for crackers. I gotta feed the damned gulls before I go.

Whoa…what just happened?

I’m staring at my hand.

Now I’m looking over at my window.

Another morning.

I’m laying in my rack.

It was all a terrible dream.

Donald Trump is not a Space Alien after all. He’s nothing but an old phony billionaire Dude, bent on dominating our asses.

I’m so relieved.

So I was never abducted ?

Only in my dream.

I can sit here at the office and blog away like it’s no big deal.

Which is what I’m doing. I’m blogging this.

Yesterday was Super Tuesday. Trump did well. He’s gonna be the nominee, no doubt about that. So what can I do about it? Nothing. I’m not happy, but nothing I can do about it. One thing I’m happy about. My Free Booze Sample gig came through with close to a dozen shifts this month. They didn’t abandon me after all. So I guess I got nothing too serious to worry about.

Or do I?

“Register to Vote, humanoid. It is your duty.”

The nightmare continues…