"Look," you explain,
"how could I compete with a store that sells both pointless alien
tchotchkes and spicy wings? It was the ultimate combo! Oh sure, I tried
to play catch-up. They had a secret recipe of twelve herbs and spices,
so I made my own secret recipe of thirteen herbs and spices.
Unfortunately, I don't know a damn thing about cooking, so I just made
the thirteenth ingredient hemlock. I thought it would be nice and scary,
you know, 'buy this death and get a free 5-piece of the wings that
killed Socrates. Can you survive it?' Well, it didn't work, and
those sticklers down at the Health Department said it was 'illegal,'
and that I was a 'monster' for serving it, so I had to leave town
in a hurry. Now, I'm gonna redeem myself by saving the world from
aliens."
The townsfolk stare at you with slackened jaws. They knew you ran a
failed store, but didn't realize that you were the "Hemlock Hocker" of
Roswell. The mayor is the first one to regain his composure enough to
speak, and leads the jeers against you. Well, it was fun while it
lasted, you think to yourself. You point over the mayor's shoulder and
shout, "look, a blue jay!" Sure enough, the assembled mob collectively
looks in that direction and you sneak back to your car. By the time the
townsfolk realize they've been duped, you are well on your way out of
Walla Walla.
I sure hope the next town is more hospitable, you sigh. As you cruise
down the highway, you try to put the memories of Walla Walla out of your
mind as best you can. Unfortunately, you're quite successful at that,
and it completely slips your mind that aliens are up to no good. Thus,
it comes as a complete surprise when the aliens invade a week later.
