As you may recall, Friday last was another day missed from work due to an extraordinary circumstance that seemingly could only beset Slack Slacker. Unfortunately, that bad luck has bled over into this Friday the 13th, due to another spectacularly unbelievable event. Yet again, I must report an incident so incredible, so impossible, so inconceivable, you’re bound to think you’ve been taken One Step Beyond the Twilight Zone.

As per usual, it all started with me bellied up at the bar of my favorite Tequila joint on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. Me and Slim Slimy, another of the Slack Pack were tossing back unlimited shots of the cheap stuff like there was no tomorrow. Little did I know, this Thursday night would prove to be the most perilous adventure this slacker has experienced in a long time.
Just as I was refocusing my vision on Juicy Lucy, one of the joint’s regular bar flies, a tiny little, deeply olive complected “fellow”, with an out of this world accent, nudged his way through the crowd to introduce himself as 1010011010. When he realized I clearly didn’t understand, the little greenish man adjusted the sound of his voice and said “You can call me Z.” That works for me” I say, and albeit strangely, the conversation continued.
With a blank stare, totally devoid of human expression, Z said he’d been told I’d be interested in making some easy money, if it didn’t involve hard work. Despite my compromised thinking capacity, I was still capable of recognizing opportunity when it came knocking, so I gave the little green man as much attention as I could muster. Z went on to explain, he’d been on a journey to locate and obtain certain items to complete an experiment that could benefit life-forms throughout the universes.
His pitch sounded so exciting, without waiting for details, I asked, “how much do I get paid for doing nothing and when do I start?” Z said I could start right now if we left through the rear exit of the bar where transportation would be waiting in the alley. That sounded rather odd, but before I could reconsider, Z’s noticeably powerful four fingered hand griped my arm at the elbow and quickly led me outside.
Once in the alley, Z signaled a large craft of some kind, hovering soundlessly above the neighborhood. Why I couldn’t hear panic in the streets and the authorities responding was a mystery, but at the moment I was more worried about the whitish blue light that enveloped, immobilized and lifted me weightlessly toward the silent craft above. As I floated up, I could see I was not alone. Ten, maybe fifteen other guys were being transported up too. Gazing at each other in petrified horror, I ascended slowly with the others until I felt myself losing consciousness.
When I regained my senses and surveyed the surroundings, I realized was restrained on a metallic operating table in a laboratory-like environment so advanced, it would’ve impress Bill Nye the Science Guy. But again, I was not alone. The lab was huge. There were guys staked out on metallic tables for as far as I could crane my neck to see. And what a horrifying sight it was.
Some guys were being operated on, while others like myself were praying not to be next. I could see other little greenish men like Z removing organs, limbs, eyeballs and all kinds of stuff people generally want to hang on to. Shit real got scary when I saw how the little green men disposed of what remained of the guys like me. With nothing left of them but carved up carcasses, they were flung out the craft, into the choppy cold waters of the East River.
Just then, Z came by and told me the experiment was going according to plan and my contribution was the most critical in order to achieve the desired results. Terrified, I asked “What contribution? “Your brain Mr. Slacker, you’re contributing your brain” Z said. Suddenly, a bunch of other little green men crowded around me and began examining my head.
However, the more they scanned and probed and picked and pulled I could see the little greenish men beginning to show what could only be described as human-like emotions. Some of them looked confused, others shocked, while still others were clearly disturbed and disappointed. I could hear them angrily concluding, “his brain won’t work!”Their top  head examiner acknowledged there seemed to be sufficient wave activity, but the brain, simply refused to work. Hurrying off in a huff, the little green men started desperately rummaging through piles of leftover body parts, presumably looking for a suitable replacement.
Pissed he’d be held responsible for selecting the most work-adverse brain on planet earth for the experiment, Z removed my restrains, clasped his vice-like four fingered grip around my neck and tossed my ass out of the craft like a bag of trash. After landing on a slab of floating ice and watching the craft dematerialize before my eyes, I paddled myself ashore and hailed a cab.
As I sat shivering in the backseat on the way back across town, I couldn’t help wondering why a technologically advanced civilization like Z’s, would think a slacker’s brain would have anything to do with work. Go figure.Bottom line: Since I’m still feeling a little light headed from the close encounter, I won’t be in until Monday at the earliest.
BTW, just below is a really cool episode of Rocky Jordan entitled Champagne Caviar and Hot Ice for your enjoyment.