Where Are Will Smith And Tommy Lee Jones When You Need Them?

The truth is not out there. It's in here.

The following events are all 100% true. They took place in my home, on what appeared to be a normal Friday evening but was, in reality, the evening that shall henceforth be known as “The Night The Aliens Invaded My House”.

I began to suspect something was not right almost immediately upon arriving home. I asked my second son, Kane, if he wanted me to make him an appointment to get his haircut. He said yes. Jake, my oldest, asked if I could make one for him as well. I called the hairdresser and asked for two appointments on Saturday. She had two spots available, but not at the same time. One was at 9am, the other at 10:45am. I booked them, then went to break the news to the boys that they would have to haul their cookies out of bed before noon on a Saturday. And one of them would have to get up really early. I was going to suggest “Rock, paper scissors” to determine who would be the early appointment. Then Kane said “It’s ok, Jake. You take the later appointment.”


Then Jake replied “Really? Are you sure?”


Then Kane said “Sure. No problem.”

Then Jake said “Thanks, man.”

Then Kane said “You’re welcome.”

They left the room and I continued to stand there, dumbfounded. Finally, after about 20 minutes, I decided that I should stop looking a gift horse in the mouth and get supper ready. I made supper and called everyone to the table. Our table doesn’t have chairs, but rather, has an L-shaped bench along 2 sides and another straight bench along a third side. Jake and Kane sat down, side by side, on the L-shaped bench. We ate. Jake finished first and wanted seconds. Because he was sitting on the “inside” of the L, he couldn’t get out unless Kane got up.

So Jake said “Excuse me, Kane. Could you let me out? I’d like to get some more supper.”

Then Kane said “Sure. No problem.” And he got up.

I began to suspect drug use.

After supper, we moved to the living room. I brought out a box of chocolate-covered cherries that only had a few chocolates left. All 3 boys started devouring. When it came down to the last chocolate, Kane started to reach into the box and I, in an attempt to be preemptive, asked “Wait, how many did you have and how many did Jake have?”

Then Jake said “Don’t worry about it. You can have it Kane.”

Then Kane said “Really? Are you sure?”

Then Jake said “Sure. No problem.”

Then Kane said “Thanks, man.”

I knew then, the way only a mother knows, that 2 of my children were dead and had been replaced by alien clones. Faulty alien clones. So I did what I had to do.

I said “Would you 2 knock it off?! You’re freaking me out!”

They asked what I was talking about. I brought up all the politeness they had displayed all evening long. I told them that I knew they were aliens. I told them if they were going to replace people on this planet, they might consider studying their subjects a little closer, in order to mimic their behaviours better. This, of course, got them going.

Jake said “Kane, would you mind bringing me a glass of water?”

Kane said “Sure. No problem. Would you like some too, Mother?” And he brought us glasses of water.

This type of behaviour persisted for another 30 minutes or so. It eventually degenerated into a state of utter ridiculousness with the 2 of them brushing each others hair, hugging, declaring their brotherly affection and singing “Pure Imagination” from Charlie And The Chocolate Factory.

It would appear the alien plan is to conquer us through the use of good manners and humour.

Funny, I don’t miss those other 2 kids at all.

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