What Chris thinks you've got a right to know.

    In fourth grade, I remember that we were assigned to write an essay on a memorable Christmas. As is fitting for such poorly-disguised busy work, I hurriedly finished the short little story, paying little attention to its content. The person next to me, however, had written something far more interesting, the story of his own personal alien abduction. Because it was about 2 lines long, I still remember it:

   On December 25th, 1994, it was Christmas Eve. I looked at my watch, and realized five hours had gone by, and that I'd been abducted by aliens, who did experiments on me. If you don't believe me, look at Adam Gilligan's left hand.

   "Adam Gilligan" was actually Adam Gilland, but my classmate didn't really know Adam, and didn't really care if he had his last name wrong. Adam had, 10 minutes prior, pointed out a scar on his left hand that he attributed to alien experimentation, and between the two of them they felt they'd proved the existence of aliens beyond refute. I didn't point out at the time that aliens probably didn't care much about inspecting the inner workings of Adam's palm, nor did I mention that the scar on Adam's hand couldn't be seen by anyone else in the classroom. I doubt it would have made much difference.

            In the library recently, I saw a book that made similar claims. The Allagash Abductions claims to have within it “undeniable proof of alien intervention,” and when I saw that ambitious statement, my interest immediately rose. I sat down to read it, and sadly, within 10 minutes, I had fallen asleep. I remained asleep for the duration of 7th period, but the next day a more thorough inspection of the book was conducted, and I was drawn into a world of government conspiracy and alien death rays that have brought me face to face with The Man and his lies. The Man, in his most cunning of attempts to deter me from the truth, has perpetuated a story about 4 men being abducted by aliens that is composed entirely of blatant lies. Why he wants us to believe one story about aliens, while he hides the facts about the true existence of extraterrestrial beings is something I will leave for the future to expose.

    Jack Weiner, Jim Weiner, Charlie Fotlz, and Chuck Rak – If everything else about their story didn’t ring false, I’d still be hesitant to believe them just because two of them are named “Mr. Weiner.” Names aside, however, something doesn’t seem credible. While camping in 1976, these four men began to run dangerously low on food. To fix things, they decided to try their hand at night fishing. Before leaving, they erected an insanely large bonfire, so that it would still be raging when they returned. Did you catch that logic? Already I find these men less credible, because they decided, “Hey, let’s make the bonfire really really big, and then leave.” The fact that the beautiful Allagash forests weren’t burnt to the ground is arguably “undeniable evidence of alien intervention,” but I feel like it’s just luck.

    The men went out on a canoe, and shortly after spotted a large flying object several hundred yards away. Charlie Foltz did what any man would have done in the same position: He turned on his flashlight, and signaled an SOS. What he was hoping to be saved from escapes me completely, nor do I understand where he got the idea that a glowing light in the northern sky would save him from it. The glowing light turned towards them and hovered in their direction, and they paddled madly for the shore, where they were enveloped in an eerily colored light. The next thing they knew, they were once again on the bank. Charlie shined his flashlight at the object menacingly, and it flew away. Their fire, however, had died down, suggesting that several hours had passed.

    Soon after, they began having dreams in which they supposedly saw long-necked, four-fingered alien beings. Under the guidance of Raymond Fowler, author of The Allagash Abductions and alien enthusiast, they underwent regressive hypnosis, which is the main premise of the book. Fowler’s documentary is primarily made up of transcripts of the conversations between himself and the abductees, though they’re unsurprisingly cryptic and contradictory, and Fowler leads them every few lines, in a manner similar to this:

Jack Weiner: I’m in…some sort of….room, now.

Raymond Fowler: An examination room?

JW: ….yes.

RF: And what are they doing to you?

JW:….they’re…examining me.

RF: What kind of examinations?

JW: …ouch! It hurts!

RF: What does, the tools?

JW: ….yes, the tools.

 Fowler learned, through hypnotism, of several of these abductions. In pretty much all of the cases, the men were taken aboard the ship and subject to humiliating physical examinations, in which “skin and fluid samples” were taken. The men, who list their occupations as artists, drew detailed diagrams of their experiences: 

    In my case against the Allagash abductees, there is no single piece of evidence that outweighs the art the four men drew. For men who call themselves artists, this stuff seems almost as convincing as the pencil-scratched desk drawings of UFOs that my aforementioned classmate Adam drew on his desk.

   When I was a kid, my friends and I rode our bikes through neighbors’ yards and hunted down imaginary enemy spies with our invisible machine guns. But when the neighbors came outside to yell at us, we never told them we were fighting espionage. Even at age 11, I didn't pretend my fantasies were true. Then again, if I could figure out why the Allagash abductees would claim to be artists, I’d probably also know why they think they’re targets for alien body inspections. 

    I realize I’m taunting death. If aliens return to earth and rain down fiery wrath upon us, I’m sure they’ll target me first. And when they’re building an alien city upon the charred remains of Washington D.C., they’ll probably lay their eggs inside of my larynx. But honestly, I’m willing to risk it all for a chance to expose the truth.