“Hi, Horace. Did you stop and pick up the Cake tickets like I asked you to?”

“I sure did. And you won’t believe what happened to me on the way home from Ticketmaster.”

“Oh?”

“You know that stretch of road after you pass the sports arena?”

“You mean the winding, deserted two-lane road that passes by the sports arena where Phil Collins and Prince are both playing next month? What about it?”

“Well, I was just driving along, minding my own business and thinking about which tickets I should buy tomorrow. You know, whether we should see Mindy Smith or the Finn Brothers? Or maybe even Gomez, Hanson and Galactic? And that’s when it happened. Right after I passed Grover’s Mill.”

“That’s when what happened, Horace?”

“This bright light descended down from the sky. It was incredible, Zelda. It was like the spaceship shaped like the guitar on the first Boston album. And it was landing on the road right in front of me.”

“No!”

“Yes. That’s when my car’s engine stalled out. There I was, just me and the concert tickets, sitting in the dark. That’s when I saw the aliens.”

“Aliens? You mean space aliens?”

“I guess. There were five of them. They walked right up to the car. Then, one of them pointed at me and I felt paralyzed. I’m telling you, Zelda, I couldn’t move. Then, another one pointed at me, the car door opened, and I floated up, off of the car seat, out of the car, and then down the road into their spaceship. It was incredible!”

“I’ll bet. Then what happened?”

“Well, they stripped off my clothes and put me on this examination table. Then they told me that they wanted to study me in hopes of understanding why Earth-people love concerts so much.”

“They talked to you? In English?”

“More like mental telegraphy. That’s when they stuck the probe in me and made me watch concert footage of bands like Deftones and They Might Be Giants. They said they wanted to record my biological reactions to live music.”

“They stuck a probe in you?”

“Yeah. A really big one, too. At least 5, maybe 10 feet long.”

“Whew! Then what happened.”

“Well, Zelda, they showed me some more concert videos, including ones by Toby Keith and Social Distortion. Then they let me go. After they pulled the probe out of my, well, you know.”

“That’s amazing!”

“Isn’t it? I said you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Lemme see if I have this straight. You’re coming home from Ticketmaster, driving down a deserted stretch of highway, when a spaceship lands in front of you. Then a group of space aliens emerges from the spaceship, abducts you from the front seat of the car, takes you into their craft where they insert a long probe into your body and show you live music videos so they can measure your reaction to concert stimuli. You’re right, Horace. That’s incredible. In fact, it’s more than incredible. That’s absolutely the most astounding story I’ve ever heard.”

“What did I say?”

“I mean, with the exception of the spaceship, it’s just like what happened to us last week at that Ozzfest tailgater.”

“I know, Zelda. Of course, at Ozzfest they used a bigger probe.”