Suddenly, a bright light filled the room, blinding me. SLB: What? too far? The light dimmed. I opened my eyes to see a blue column of light, encompassing Shia LaBeouf. He rapidly ascended, passing through the ceiling as if it wasn't there. Seconds passed. Then an alien slowly descended where Shia had exited. My new guest had the classic lines of a typical Hollywood alien, oversized head, long gray face, big black eyes. He was also holding a clipboard, and looked stressed out. Alien: Sorry about that. C: What. A: Sorry about cutting in like that. That whole thing was starting to go off the rails. C: Who are you? Where'd Shia go? A: He's being debriefed right now. C: Debriefed? For what? A: The man you know as Shia LaBeouf is not of your species. We sent him here to conduct research on your film industry. C: I see. A: No, mouth-talker, you probably don't. We need this information because due to a horrendous data-calamity, our home planet lost almost all of its historical records. We need to borrow your expertise in the dramatic arts to recreate our history from the remaining fragments. C: I hope you're comfortable with a heritage filled with wacky black sidekicks and training montages. A: No shit. -shakes head ruefully- Anyways, Shia was supposed to just work behind the scenes, getting bottled water for people's pets, providing ear massages, that sort of thing. But there was some kind of mix-up and he became a star. We think he seduced Spielberg somehow. Rode a flying BMX around his yard or something. C: Uhhhh. A: Anyways, once he became famous, he came down with a case of Earth madness, and has since been threatening to blow the whole project. C: So he was an alien the whole time? And that explains the creepy unlikableness. A: We modified his face and body to appear as normal as possible. As good a job as we could anyways. The technology isn't perfect. A lot of natural humans find it unsettling. C: It was like talking to a colostomy bag.

C: Oh man. -shivers- What will you do with me now that I know? A: What would we do with you? Oh I get it. C: You get what? A: You're asking for an anal probe. No, we don't do that any more. That was kind of a '90s thing. C: Not what I was actually asking, but I am a little insulted that it's not even on the table. No, what I meant is, are you going to stop me from telling the world about Shia? A: We'll replace him with another volunteer shortly. So you know, tell as many people as you want, I guess? See how many people believe you. What is this place anyways? -looks on his clipboard- Cracked? Heh. Yeah, you go blow the lid off this, Edward R. Murrow. Anyways, I have to go. One of our other assets has an audition tomorrow, and needs me to run through her lines with her. C: Renee Zellweger? A: Ahhhhh-ahhhh-ahhh-ahh-ah. Not telling. -gun fingers, winks, floats up through the ceiling in a blue column. __________________________

For more Bucholz, check out Complaints to Domino's That They Didn't Put in Their Ad and The Most Powerful Man in the World: The Voice in Your GPS.

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