My wife is rather sophisticated, at least to my view. She’s an artist, an art collector, and an art dealer. She’s an award-winning theatrical director and producer. She’s a gifted writer. She’s very intelligent.
But she drives a gray Honda.
One day I came home to find her car in the driveway instead of in the garage. In the house, I found my wife with her girlfriend Katie. Katie is, I would say, quite sophisticated. She is a brilliant artist, a successful business owner, articulate and witty and socially aware.
But that gray Honda in the driveway was hers.
Katie and I attend the same church. A fellow parishioner named Jack drives a gray Honda, too. And our minister drives a gray Honda. And his daughter. Think a moment. You probably know somebody who drives a gray Honda, right?
A trail of gray Hondas stretches through Ipswich.
Once I started counting gray Hondas, I began to realize that the earth is crawling with them, like sheet-metal cockroaches. Start at my house on outer Linebrook, drive to Town Hall, and how many gray Hondas do you see? One day I actually kept track. Wanna guess? Four? No. Seven? Still low. Eleven? Dream on. I crossed the path of 14 gray Hondas that day — in the space of five and a half miles.
Ipswich is gray Honda hell.
I’m afraid of what the reason might be.
I’m afraid we’re witnessing a slow-motion alien invasion.
Yes, alien invasion.
We’ve known for a long time that aliens are either invading earth or preparing to. Any basic Google search will tell you this. But now it’s becoming clear what form they’re taking.
They pose as the drivers of gray Hondas, and they infiltrate the most intimate little spaces that humans can possibly occupy. Within reason. I mean, like, Ipswich. Towns of 15,000 or fewer residents. The gray Hondas themselves are actually highly advanced energy-absorption teleportation units, which draw the life out of our town and shuttle it back to the home planet without our ever knowing it. There’s no actual climate change, folks. It’s the gray Hondas, throwing off the natural balance of our ecological system by sucking nutrients and calories and BTUs out of our environment.
So somewhere out there, there’s a planet that was gradually dying, and they searched the universe for some source of the energy they specifically needed, and they found it here. In New England. In Ipswich. Maybe it’s the energy generated by bickering? I don’t know. But their equipment does indeed register energy spikes during Town Meeting, twice a year.
Anyway, they’re sending their rovers — disguised as gray Hondas — to crawl across our 32.1 square miles of land area and vacuum up all the energy they can find.
Yes. Gray Hondas. This is the safest, most commonplace form you can possibly assume, if you’re an alien.
You don’t have to wonder if my theory is correct. There’s a way to test this. The next time you’re driving through Ipswich and you see a gray Honda, just tap lightly on your horn. Nothing special, nothing extraordinary. Just a bip bip! Then watch the face of the driver of that gray Honda. Look at their eyes. You’re witnessing a momentary flicker of recognition. A moment of “Oh no! They’re on to me!”
See? Gray Hondas. Aliens.
The only way to protect yourself is to honk every time. Bip bip! Every time you see a gray Honda. Because when THEY know YOU know, you’re safe.
Live long and prosper.