“To heck with it,” you tell the omniscient narrator in your head. “These creeps don’t scare me. Besides, I have a cunning plan.”

Oh, that’s right. You watched that Mel Gibson movie where he’s a former priest in the midst of an alien invasion last night, didn’t you? Well, give it a shot, hero. It’s your funeral.

You let out a scream of rage and rush out to catch the aliens, grabbing the half-empty (or is it half-full?) glass of water you had left on the coffee table the night before. They’re just about to get into their vehicle when you scream out, “This is for Jubilation Lee, Creepshow!” and throw the water into the nearest one’s face. The monster stumbles back and you wait for the sizzle of alien flesh to sound out your victory.

But the sizzle never comes. Instead, a sound begins to emanate from the creature’s mouths. It starts low and slow at first, then builds into a roar. His friend begins to join in, and the noise is so great, it nearly shakes your house off its foundation. You know this sound. You’ve heard it so many times before. It’s the same sound you remember from high school gym class, the same sound the last person you dated made when you told them they’d never find someone better than you.

They’re laughing at you. The aliens are actually doubling over with hysterics over your paltry attempt to stop them. And you were so sure that would work, too. Stupid M. Night However-You-Spell-His-Last-Name.

As the one in front of you slaps his knee in disbelief, you can’t help but notice the silver ray gun that falls out from inside his tuxedo jacket. In haste, you grab it and point it right into where you think his ribs are and fire. BLA-ZOW! The creature flashes with light then vaporizes into nothing, with the incredibly unharmed package dropping to the ground with a “thunk”. What a twist!

BLA-ZOW! With another blast, the other alien fiend meets the same laser-y fate. Revenge is yours, hotshot. Now you’ve got the package, the ray-gun, AND their sweet ride. Not a bad way to end a HOLY CRAP, THERE’S MORE OF THEM COMING.

Dozens, in fact, all converging on your position in ships just like the ones your intruding friends were in. You attempt to blast them, but the ray gun doesn’t seem to be working. You toss it away and scramble into the ship, the door closing automatically behind you.

Looks like they left the motor running, you lucky so-and-so. You’re gonna have to make a quick getaway if you hope to survive this one. You quickly fish your refurbished 3rd Generation 8GB iPod Touch from your pocket, hoping to provide a high-octane soundtrack to your escape with some of the 7,000 songs you store on it. Wouldn’t you know it, there’s no docking station. There’s not even a cord to connect to the stereo mini-jack! Drat! Don’t they have ultra-hip media players where these things come from?

No time to pout now. You’ll be surrounded if you don’t grab what you think is the wheel and put what you think is the pedal to the metal to make it, but you suddenly realize you have no idea how to drive this thing. There IS a big red button flashing wildly at you from the control panel, seemly daring you to push it. Think fast, rabbit, or you’ll be human hossenfeffer in mere seconds.

Do you (A) attempt to drive the ship through town and alert the authorites or (B) hit the red button and prey that the alien dialect scrawled above it doesn’t read “Self-destruct”?

And, hey! There seems to be two other buttons marked (C) “Go Back” and (D) “Start Over” in plain English! How absolutely convenient for you!