I am posting this today in honor of my dear friend, Bryan Carnett. We lost Bryan to cancer a few years ago, and he is still sorely missed, as he will always be.

Also, he was the only person on earth who was an eyewitness to my rather incredible story. Now that he’s gone, I’m on my own. But good old Bryan read this story a few years ago and gave it a thumbs up, vouching for every detail right up to the end.


 

I met some aliens once. They were nice.

I don’t mean the kind who sneak over the border and wash dishes, I mean the kind that land in spaceships and look like ET. Spielberg had something there, ya know.

Way back in ’76 or thereabouts I drove up into the mountains for an overnight camping trip with my pal Bryan. Lest you think I’m really old, let me say I’d just started driving that year and was just finishing high-school. So I’m only kind of old, okay?

Thank you.

Bryan and I hadn’t really put a lot of planning into this beyond throwing a couple of sleeping bags into the back of my dad’s ’67 Dodge pickup and snagging a six-pack of beer along the way. I don’t recall how we got a hold of it, being underage, but we always managed somehow. But rest assured that’s all we had. We didn’t have any weed (called it pot back then) or any other illicit substance, so what we saw later on in the night really happened, or so we think. But who really knows?

We found this little logged-out clearing at the end of an isolated dirt road up in Northern California by “Stumpy Meadows Lake.” The name of this place has been a total mystery to me for all these years until I just now checked on Yelp and came across the following entry from a recent visitor…

“Once you get there you really understand why it’s called Stumpy Meadows. There are stumps everywhere! I found it charming.”

I think they called it that back in my day too but there weren’t as many stumps, there were trees instead. I like trees better but hey, the place gets four-stars across the board on Yelp, so it must not be too bad. Also, I don’t think anyone giving it such a high rating has ever had a night up there like Bryan and I had.

We settled down in our little clearing and laid-out in the truck bed on our backs, staring up at the brilliant night sky philosophizing about things that teen-aged boys tend to philosophize about, like girls and beer and how far away do you think that star is, and girls. At some point, we fell asleep.

The little bastards woke me up first, just by standing around and staring at us. I’m kind of sensitive to being watched while I sleep *chills* and I have a sort of sixth-sense about it, so I opened my eyes and looked around, fully expecting to see some hikers or other campers. What I saw instead kind of startled me.

They were just like all the stories you’ve heard; between four and five feet tall, enormous heads teetering at the end of spindly necks and the biggest eyes you’ll ever see. Their graceful, slender fingers draped over the edge of the pickup truck bed as if they were lifting themselves up for a better look at us.

I jabbed Bryan as he snored next to me and he awoke with a “Hey man!” that quickly turned into awe-struck silence as he took in the sight around us, and then his silence abruptly became a scream. Yes, my pal screamed like a little girl but I can’t fault him for that because it’s exactly what I was trying to do, but I was too frozen in terror.

And with that, the five or six mysterious visitors scampered off with a whoosh. When later comparing notes in hushed tones, we both noticed that they didn’t seem to make much sound as they ran off through the woods, and that struck us as a very curious thing. We’d seen deer run off from campsites many times and even those graceful creatures tend to trample brush and noisily snap branches and twigs in their desperate hurry to get away. But not these guys.

We also realized that we hadn’t noticed the pulsating, glowing light emanating from the trees as they ran in that direction. It occurred to us that we were too busy scrambling into the truck cab and getting it started so that we could get the hell out of there, as we were pretty certain they were running back to their whatever-it-was to obtain weapons and rope.

We were also both screaming like little girls now, so if these guys come forward someday and disclose themselves, and I get a chance to meet them at an autograph signing or if they’re the guards at the internment camp I’m incarcerated in, I’m going to really be embarrassed.

We didn’t tell anyone about this at first, but after “ET” came out I told a lot of people because suddenly it was cool. A few of these people posited the theory that they weren’t just standing around the truck for a few moments while checking us out, but were actually putting us back. “Did you have any missing time?” they’d ask. “Of course I did,” I’d reply. “I was asleep.” Then they’d urge me to check myself for implants.

So there you have it, that’s why this post is called “Those Pesky Alien Implants.” It’s because I might still have some and I blame them for every goofy thing I think and do, but not really, because hey… REALLY?

Bryan and I lost touch until a few years ago when we hooked-up again and talked over this story in the company of our respective wives and a pitcher of much better beer than we had in the truck that night. He confirmed the whole thing and remembered it exactly as I’ve told here, which is encouraging because most people either refer me to their therapist or laugh so hard they spew soda all over my shirt.

It’s been a long time, and I’m tired of having to buy new shirts, so THANKS BRYAN, and RIP my old pal.

Bryan and Dave
In honor of Bryan Carnett 1960-2015

 

“I believe alien life is quite common in the universe, although intelligent life is less so. Some say it has yet to appear on planet Earth.”

~Stephen Hawking


Spaceship graphic by Andr├ęs Nieto Porras [CC BY-SA 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons


 

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