My ex-boyfriend, “Charlie,” once had a strange roommate. He was a music maker and a drummer of drums at 11 pm. One morning I went outside and found him eating a giant bowl of what appeared to be chickpeas floating in balsamic vinegar. Let’s call him “Abe.”
One day, Charlie delivered some news. The night before, Abe had told him, a UFO had flown up to their porch. The news wasn’t that a UFO had flown up to their porch, but that Abe believed a UFO had flown up to their porch.
Later that day, I saw Abe on that very same porch. I said, “Abe, I heard you saw a UFO.” Abe got really excited. As he told me the story, he paced back and forth. His retelling was brisk, but systematic. Here is the gist: while up late making music, he saw a bright light from outside his window. He went to find out what it was. Guess what? It was a giant spaceship.
“I immediately felt a voice, as if from inside me, telling me to come no further,” Abe said. (I have formalized his speech for effect.) “It wasn’t me they had come for. So I went back inside.”
Abe was an avid Coast to Coast listener, so he knew the spaceship’s deal. “It was a Grey ship,” he continued. “Greys are nasty characters. They’re the ones who abduct people and experiment on them.”
I asked if he was concerned.
“No,” he said. “They mostly come after women in their early-to-mid twenties.”
That wasn’t very nice, Abe.