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The alien abductee agreed to meet with me only after I conceded to his very specific terms. Chiefly, that I take precautions to ensure that I would not be followed to our meeting site - by means of routinely doubling back on my tracks - that I not use his name or describe his physical features, that our meeting site remain undisclosed for the duration of his time on earth, and lastly, that I bring him a carton of pall malls and a 2-liter of Pepsi. For the sake of convenience we'll call him "the Bone". (More on this later) I meet the Bone at the designated location in the middle of the afternoon. He is a nervous, twitchy man. We are in a public space and I suspect he feels both safer and more vulnerable in a crowd. He shifts around uneasily, cocks his head from side to side to survey the crowd, and insists on moving continually. He feels quite certain that the aliens won't grab him in a crowd but fears that the FBI/CIA/shadow government/Christian fundamentalists/soccer moms might. The Bone describes to me his abduction experiences, complete with flashing lights, little grey telepathic beings with bulging black eyes, whirling disc-shaped spacecraft, and missing time. It all sounds a little too familiar... like every episode of Scooby Doo ever. When I ask him how many times he's been abducted, he estimates the number to be somewhere in the 200's, beginning at the age of 5. He claims to be some kind of lifetime alien experiment. He shows me scar after scar to prove this. "Hold on," I say. "There may be another explanation here... maybe you're simply clumsy... you trip and fall, hit your head on something and blackout. During this period of injury-induced unconsciousness perhaps you have fantastic dreams in REM state and when you wake, you find that you are missing time. Then, probably due to media flooding of the public psyche with alien themes and stories and conspiracy theories, you have come to use the alien abduction scenario to explain away the missing time and the fantastic images you have seen... when really you should just be more careful and invest in a high grade expanded polyesterine helmet." He refutes my version of events and tells me that he has had organs removed, unnecessary surgeries performed, and suffers from chronic back pain due to the insertion of an extra vertebrate. I ask him if he has proof of this extra bone (thus the nickname). He claims that he is afraid of the adverse effects which radiation from x-rays might have upon his implants, and even more than this, he is afraid of what doctors and scientists would do to him if it were known that a human had an extra vertebrate. He has therefore staunchly avoided all doctors. I laugh at the irony. "You mean, since they'd probe your orifices and perform weird experiments and generally treat you like a lab animal?" Yeah. The idea terrifies him. I suggest that perhaps he has injured his back in one of those "accidents" and recommend that he see a doctor immediately, or at least consult a good chiropractor. The Bone loses patience with me. He seems to think that I am close-minded! He thanks me for the cigarettes and Pepsi and vanishes into the crowd. Oh well, another interview ruined by my skepticism. His paranoid delusions exhausted me and I went home to spend the rest of the afternoon resting in my healing pyramid. Copyright 1998 Jennifer Chung. All rights reserved. Email me for free anal probe. |