Won't Get Fooled Again

I was working pretty late the other night. Right up until midnight, in fact, running more ads in online newspapers for Michael Casher, my flesh-and-blood other self, despite the fact that only spammers and scam artists respond to these pathetic book ads.

I was low on think-a-hol at home so I decided to mosey on down to the Lounge and knock a few big ones back and then stroll leisurely home while enjoying the clear, starry night. About a block from the house this odd-looking vehicle pulled up beside me (see pic) and I heard a mechanical voice talking to me from an external speaker.

"Hey, pal," said the alien voice, "need a ride?"

"No thanks," I said almost automatically. "Been there and done that." I was, of course, referring to Michael's childhood alien abductions and the alien pricks in this particular flying saucer damn well knew it.

I thought the bastards would zap me good after that remark or just beam me aboard for the hell of it but the alien craft just zoomed out of sight. When I rounded the corner there it was again, asking another guy the same question.

It was Angus, the big-ass Think-A-Holic Lounge bartender, getting something from his car. I watched in utter fascination as ol' Angus dropped his trousers and mooned everybody in the ship. Then I laughed like hell when the goofy-looking UFO tore out of there like it was under attack or something.

I was so impressed by Angus McCloud's spontaneous, almost lackadaisical spurning of these extraterrestrial mad scientists (that's all they really are) that I gave Angus an extra large tip that night. And, by the way, neither one of us has seen that UFO ever since that strange, starry night.

Thank heavens for that.