Have you ever wanted to contact aliens? I don’t mean the warm-natured gents who perform miracles with lawn care; I’m referring to E.T.’s relatives – intergalactic aliens.
For the nominal fee of $3.99 per minute, TalkToAliens.com will let you use their “custom-engineered deep space transmitter” to attempt to contact intergalactic communication. The site is currently offline while they “upgrade and enhance the system with new out-of-this-world features.”
Imagine the possibilities. Your son has some friends stay for a sleepover. One of his buddies decides they should call TalkToAliens.com and “make contact.” They decide to use your cell phone. The appropriate number is dialed. The guys hear some high-pitched screeches and a little static – not enough to hold their interest but enough to keep the line open just in case.
Your son’s friend Allen (you know, the one who was 2005’s poster boy for attention deficit disorder) remembers that Brittany and her friends are having a sleepover tonight too. “Let’s prank ‘em,” he suggests. The boys’ focus turns to visions of softly curved teenaged girls wearing baby-doll pajamas. Your cell phone is set aside – still connected to… space.
Unless you’re lucky and the connection is dropped, at a rate of $239.40 per hour, the fees are mounting at a good clip. In four hours they’ve incurred $957.60 in charges, not counting the three pizzas and several two-liters of Pepsi products you so graciously provided.
That’s nightmarish in and of itself.
Now let’s suppose that contact is established with a group of malevolent aliens – or even a group of E.T.s having their own sleepover. One by one, they teleport via the site’s “10.5 foot parabolic antenna,” truly opening a portal from Hell. You probably won’t even go check on the guys until their screaming becomes louder than the mega-metal music they’re listening to. Your husband bangs on the ceiling once – twice. The screams continue.
You flutter your eyelashes and meaningfully pat the bed beside you. “Honey, go up there and quiet them down. I can’t stand another minute of this noise. I’ll have a treat for you when you get back…”
His chest puffs out; he’s in his element now. Your hero ascends the stairs to defend his sweetheart. His heart pounding, he breaks a sweat on the eighth or ninth step; he’s just a bit out of shape and makes a mental note to start running again.
Just a split second before he opens the bedroom door, a niggling voice inside his head wonders why the boys are screaming. Imagine the expression of disbelief on his face when he enters the room and sees -- Them.
Can you hear me now?
© 2006 Clara Chandler - All Rights Reserved
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