A Glorious Encounter

Whitley Streiber, Gary Busey and I were all abducted by aliens at the same time, back in '84.

There I was, immobilized, floating in some kind of flat force field.

It was like being squashed between two invisible tables.

Busey could apparently resist. I caught him picking his buck teeth with his fingernail out of the corner of my eye.

Then he did a fireman's blow, which landed on my leg. "Sorry, Captain," he said.

I told him it was no problem. That it might even make it easier for them to get DNA samples.

Maybe they wouldn't have to go into our asses for it.

So all three of us started spitting. Everywhere.

Whitley ran out of sputum. I think he had been smoking the weed when they picked him up, and had cottonmouth. He started crying.

Busey began howling like a wolf and clawing at his skin. He disappeared in a flash of light.

Apparently the aliens are uncomfortable with werewolves.

Whitley and I tried the same thing, but they weren't about to fall for it twice. Plus, Whitley sounded more like a wounded Scotsman than a wolf.

And the spitting didn't work.
  \