(I sit in the captain's chair of what looks like the bridge of the original starship Enterprise with a naval officer standing next to me. Crew members steadily man their posts around us.)
Me: I thought we'd step outside the studio for tonight's episode, not just to offer a little visual variety to our viewers, but to help create the proper atmosphere for our theme of extraterrestrial encounters, with respect to my fear of flying. And we couldn't have found a better location than the deck of this submarine, the HMCS Fantasize. Beside me is her captain, Captain Warren Blaine. Captain, this layout bears a striking resemblance to the bridge of the United Spaceship, Enterprise - at least, the one used for the original Star Trek series.
Blaine: Yes. That may have something to do with its age. We bought it from the Americans when that show was first broadcast. Apparently Star Trek was popular with warship designers.
Me: Not with uniform designers, though, as I see from your somewhat overdressed SONAR officer.
Blaine: Actually, we had to modify Lieutenant Awuku's uniform because she kept catching a cold every time we had a mission in arctic waters.
Me: Too bad. Well thank you for letting us come on board tonight and letting me have your chair for the duration of this show.
Blaine: Just be careful not to touch any of those buttons on that armrest console.
Me: No problem. I'll just cover it up with my ashtray here.
Blaine: No!
(Red flashing lights and a wailing siren accompany a mechanized voice announcing 'RED ALERT ... RED ALERT -' as the crew jumps to action.)
(Commercial.)
(I remain at the captain's chair and my guest is seated in a lawn chair beside me. My armrest console has been duct taped over.)
Me: Basil McDermott says his cows have never been the same since his farm was visited by a UFO in the 1970's. He is with us now to tell us about it. Mister McDermott, please tell us your incredible story.
McDermott: It was late August. I was on my tractor, trying to pick up the last of the hay before the sun went down, when I heard this engine noise coming from above me. I looked up and saw that a huge flying saucer was landing in my field.
Me: That must have been terrifying.
McDermott: No. They must have used some kind of hypnotizing ray on me because I was totally calm. And they communicated to me.
Me: How? With music?
McDermott: No. With telepathy. I could hear their voices telling me not to be afraid, that they meant no harm to me.
Me: Amazing! How did you know it was their voices?
McDermott: Cause they sounded like Marvin the Martian, you know? They had that squeaky, nasal tone.
Me: Right.
McDermott: And then I heard my cows talking to me. They were saying that I better watch it because they knew what I was up to and were getting ready to form an alliance with the pigs and the other animals and start a revolution.
Me: How did you know it was your cows talking to you?
McDermott: Just the way they lingered on the m's as they spoke. Like one thing they said was 'That mmmmmilk's gonna cost you mmmmore mmmmoney!'
Me: I see. And then what happened?
McDermott: A door opened in the saucer and some kind of tractor beam sucked in my prize heifer. Then it blasted off, leaving behind a big ugly crater.
Me: Did anyone else see this?
McDermott: No. The nearest town is miles away.
Me: Well, true or not, it's a great story. Thank you for coming here and sharing it with us.
McDermott: Can I get paid now?
Me: No. I'm sorry. We can't afford to pay our guests.
McDermott: That's too bad. My chickens' contract is up for renewal and that gourmet feed they like is getting out of my price range.
Me: I'm sure you'll be able to reach a new agreement with them. Basil McDermott!
*********************************************
Commercial: Vengisil Irritating Powder
Husband: Why aren't you dressed for the tournament yet, honey?
Wife: I really don't feel like it today.
Husband: Why not? (Spotting an opened bottle of Vagisil) Oh. Well you can't cancel out on all our friends just because of that!
(Female) Announcer: Men have no sympathy for a menstruating woman. But you can teach them to respect your cycle by using Vengisil irritating powder.
(Show wife opening chest of drawers, pulling out all her husband's underwear, and covering them with powder.)
Announcer: Vengisil causes swelling and bleeding that can last up to a week and penetrates the bloodstream to cause uncomfortable hormonal changes.
Wife: I thought you were going to mow the lawn today.
Husband: I don't feel like it.
Wife: Why not?
Husband: Because I'm bleeding from the asshole.
Wife: Well that's no excuse.
Husband: What do you mean, that's no excuse!
Announcer: Don't suffer alone. Let him take a powder with Vengisil.
*********************************************
(I remain in the captain's chair. McDermott still occupies his seat on one side of me. On the other side, a woman sits on a large plastic pail which has been turned upside down.)
Me: Wendy Taylor took some time off from her job in the hair salon to tell us about her run-in with a UFO. Wendy, how long ago did this happen?
Taylor: It was the summer of '98, when I was hitchhiking through the Northwest Territories.
Me: Not many people up there.
Taylor: Not many Earthlings, you mean.
Me: So what happened?
Taylor: I'd waited on the roadside all day for a ride to pick me up without a single car passing by. I got desperate and decided to use my flare gun to signal for a rescue. That's what gave my location away to the aliens.
Me: So instead of being picked up by a helicopter, you were picked up by a spaceship.
Taylor: That's right. Within minutes a ship was hovering over me and a beam was pulling me in.
Me: Wow. So you met them face to face. What do they look like?
Taylor: Pretty much like the drawings of them in the National Enquirer. They're small and hairless. They have big heads with huge black eyes. And they all walk around naked. Disgusting.
Me: What did they want from you?
Taylor: It was plain to see that it was an all male crew, and a horny one at that. Disappointing for a race of superior intelligence.
Me: Oh no! Did they assault you?
Taylor: No. They were civilized enough to offer me wine, soften up the lighting, and put on some romantic music, but I wasn't in the mood.
Me: Then what happened?
Taylor: It looked like they weren't going to take 'no' for an answer, so I had to take control. They may be mental giants, but they are physical wimps. It was almost too easy to overpower my guard and grab his gun. I then went over to the one I took to be the pilot and held it up to his head and ordered him to take me to Yellowknife. We were there in a flash and I baled out. And that was that.
Me: Incredible! And did you keep the gun to help prove your story?
Taylor: I sure did. Here it is. (She produces a plastic water pistol and holds it up.)
Me: Uh - my nephew has one of those. It's just a water pistol, isn't it?
Taylor: Water kills them. Our planet must be an important source of ammunition for them.
Me: And pretty ladies.
Taylor: Thank you!
Me: Thank you for being here tonight. The charming and independent Wendy Taylor!
(Applause. Commercial.)
(The makeshift stage has reached full capacity. A man in his fifties stands beside Taylor.)
Me: His best selling book, Probing for Truth, offers evidence to show that aliens have been in contact with our planet all through history. Mister Edwin Keyes! Mister Keyes, I'm sorry we ran out of chairs.
Keyes: That's all right. I don't mind standing.
Me: I read your book and I found it fascinating. You've done a fine job explaining those ancient hieroglyphic drawings.
Keyes: Thank you. I don't know why their meaning eluded us for so long. Perhaps it was too obvious.
Me: And you say that even some of the Bible scriptures may be-
Blaine: (breaking in) I'm sorry, Dave. I'll need my chair back.
Me: Can't it wait a few more minutes? I'm almost done.
Blaine: I'm afraid not. Yeoman! Come and pull the duct tape off of this console.
(I begrudgingly surrender the chair to Captain Blaine. He flicks a button on his console.)
Blaine: (echoing) All hands, assume battle stations. Target range is twelve nautical miles. Bearing zero zero niner. Arm torpedoes. This is not a drill. Repeat. This is not a drill.
Me: What's the problem, Captain? I thought this was a peacetime patrol.
Blaine: We've sighted an unidentified floating object in our waters. Looks like an aircraft carrier escorted by five or six destroyers.
Me: Well shouldn't we be hightailing it back to base?
Blaine: Not as long as I'm Captain.
Me: Captain, you're mad! They'll sink us before a single torpedo gets near them!
Blaine: Now listen up, sailor! (I snap to attention.) That's not the kind of attitude that wins wars! Now get back to your post before I have you courtmartialed!
Me: Aye-aye sir!
(A depth charge explodes nearby. The lights go out as the shock waves send us all tumbling.)
Me: (whimpering) Why did I say no to the jetliner?
McDermott: (raising hand) Does this mean we're all going to die?
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