I don't understand why weird things always happen to me when I go to the grocery store. Sometimes it's enough to make one order out for every meal. I went to the store yesterday, with just an ordinary list... milk, orange juice, something --anything-- for dinner. I think it's time they invented something new to eat. After 25 years of marriage, 25 years of chicken, beef, fish, chicken, beef, fish, lamb, pasta, chicken, pasta, vegetarian delight, dump in trash, bring in KFC... I am completely thought-out on dinner ideas. There isn't any sauce I haven't made, any cut I haven't broiled, any casserole-in-a-minute I haven't gagged on. With all those amazing lifeforms tree-huggers say are hiding in the vanishing tropical forests, why haven't they found one that is delicious, low-fat, quick-cooking and cheap? Anyhow, I had just picked up a package of ground turkey nuggets, and on the back was a recipe for Quick 'n' Yummy Nugget Goulash. It called for one can of Campbell's Cream of Chicken Soup, a can of french fried onion chips, and 20 oz. of Green Giant Broccoli and Cauliflower Medley. So I was in the frozen food section looking for the Medley.

As I opened the door to the freezer case, I was transfixed by a brilliant white light radiating from just above the green beans. It called to me, by name, beckoning "Come to me... step into the case, follow the light." "No," I shouted. "NO!" The hypnotic voice called again "Come, come... I have recipes, many many recipes... and they all use ingredients you already have in the house... come..." I struggled; I held on to my shopping cart with both hands, but it was no use. Against my will, I fell into the freezer case. It wasn't as cold as I expected. (Which is just fine with me, being middle-aged and all, it's a rare place that's cool enough for me to feel comfortable.) The unworldly white light was some sort of gateway, blinding me as I passed though it, but merely a gentle glow on the other side. I think I must have passed out, because the next thing I knew, I was tied to a Laz-e-Boy recliner in a small room, panelled with black walnut grained pressboard.

I took stock of my surroundings. The orange and avocado plaid recliner, a formica wet bar. In front of me, a large screen TV. The floor was covered with orange shag carpeting. In the middle of the carpet sat a kidney-shaped coffee table. On the table, a professional studio photo album, embossed in gold, a glass bowl full of Chek Mix, a TV guide, several issues of People Magazine, a Jacquline Susann novel, and a National Enquirer. It was the nightmare rec-room of the 1970s! I looked up at the ceiling. It was a silver dome, constructed of riveted plates. From around the perimeter radiated the same white light I had seen from the freezer case. At intervals around the dome were speaker grids. "Welcome, earthling!" boomed the speakers. "We come in peace to learn more about your world!" Shit, if it isn't bubbleheads running me down with their carts 'cause they are blabbing on their cell phones, it's alien tractor beams eminating from the frozen food aisle. When am I going to find a safer grocery store? "Hello?" I said. "I'm not an earthing, I'm a Soccer Mom." "Same thing," the voice boomed. "Fat lot you know about earth," I replied.

"Silence, earthling! We have come from far across the galaxy, and it was no easy trip. There was construction out around Ursa Major so traffic was a bitch, and there was an overturned Corellian freighter just outside of Cassiopeia. Space junk all over the Milky Way, and the damn gawkers were piling out of their ships trying to highjack the freight. I tell you, if the Federation doesn't do something about those damn smugglers and their tin can ships, people are going to start voting straight Klingon tickets come November." "Riiiiight..." I said, keeping my options open. "I bet those Klingons can sure make the trains run on time." "Silence! As you can see, we have gone to a lot of trouble to create an Earth-like atmosphere for you while you are our guest. We have closely studied Earth culture from your most revered sources to design this interrogation center. All through your literature we find references to Satan, Lucifer, and Ol' Nick, the Prince of Darkness, then we find you broadcasting to all the galaxy the great literature of his followers. Yes, we have carefully studied the teachings of 'Nick at Night'. Do not attempt to wiggle your nose or blink your eyes, We are watching you." "Riiiight. I bet you've come for the Bradys' recipe for tuna noodle casserole for nine." "Actually, we got that off the Internet in a back issue of Woman's Day, but we are glad you've decided to cooperate. Now tell us.... Who shot J.R.?" "What!!! You came across the galaxy for that? I don't know, I only watch PBS." "Only? We have ways to make you tell the truth!" "Okay, okay. I watch Roseanne and Married...With Children too, and occasionally Star Trek, but only when it's a funny episode."

"Who's the better captain, Kirk or Picard?" "Damn fool alien, Sisko could beat the pants off either of them!" At this point a second voice chirped in, "Told you so." The first voice said "Shut up!" "Earthling!" it continued. "You can not tell us of J.R.? You babble only of tuna noodle casseroles? Shit, we have come so far only to learn of your technological backwardness. No known world still uses tuna noodle casserole as fuel for its beings! The great Org was right, this planet has not evolved to the point where it is a threat to the galaxy, despite the powers of the followers of Ol'Nick, the Prince of Night. Begone!" And the next thing I knew, I was sitting on the floor of the grocery store, a bag of Green Giant Medley vegetables in my hand and the imprint of Herculon on my arms. And that's the truth. P.S.: Who did shoot J.R.?