To make a long story short, he told me his name was Major Tom. My astonishment can only be expressed by the words "panorama" and "feet". As I write this, "Major Tom" by Peter Schilling is playing right next to me and I can assure you that when I listen to this song, I do not think of an overweight, balding man who happens to have a porcelain doll on his desk. As I thought of the improbability of him being Major Tom, he looked at me and said, "You look confused." Saying "you look confused" to someone is the equivalent of telling them they are obviously to stupid to understand what you just said. So I decided to ask him something that only the real Major Tom would know. To make a long story short, I asked him how he made it back to Earth in one piece. Especially with all the drifting and falling. Major Tom didn't answer my question, which is what I expected the real Major Tom would do. A secret like that shouldn't be told to a stranger you drugged and kidnapped. Instead, he told me something that, as you may expect, was unexpected. I had often imagined these words being said to me in the grocery store or out in the park while playing frisbee, but never had I imagined they would be said by Major Tom. To make a long story short, he told me he owned this building. My disbelief must have been clear on my face, for he got upset and asked me what was wrong with a man owning a porcelain doll warehouse. I can honestly tell you, reader, that the idea of this being a porcelain doll warehouse had not crossed my mind. "But why," I asked, being careful not to mention his space ship again, "did you have a bottle of sleeping gas in your porcelain doll?" To this, Major Tom gave me the answer that I needed to hear. The answer that made everything I'd done worth the trouble. Surprisingly, the fist thing I remember after asking the question is waking up in a well-lit alley. I must admit that I am as surprised as you must be that this is my first memory from that point. When I stepped out of the alley which, contrary to popular belief, was not dark, wet, or infested with rats and trash cans, I was most certainly not surprised to find myself standing on a sidewalk on th side of a street. I was surprised, however, at what I saw in the middle of the street. Upon waking, my last thought was that I would find this in the middle of the street. In fact, I believe my last thought at any point during the nights adventure was that I would find this in the middle of anywhere...except perhaps a coffin. As you may have guessed already, the thing I saw standing in the middle of the street was a lone dog with pale yellow fur. My first thought was that it was the very dog that chewed up my first baseball mitt and haunted my dreams to that day. But then I realized that it couldn't possibly be the same dog. For that very dog that chewed up my first baseball mitt all those years ago must be dead by now. Before I could move closer to the dog to examine it and see if, in fact, it was the very dog that chewed up my first baseball mitt, a most unexpected thing happen. Actually, I must be honest, the minute I saw the dog I expected it to happen. To make a long story short, the dog was hit by a car. I decided that this was conclusive evidence that the very dog that chewed up my first baseball mitt was not the very dog that just got hit by a car. After coming to that conclusion, I noticed that the car had screeched to a halt. A man got out of the car and circled around to see what he had hit, for pale yellow dogs must be very hard to see on a dark road. Upon looking at the man I was treated to another unexpected, but pleasant turn of events. To make a long story short, the man who went to check on the dog--no, it was his car he was checking on--was none other than Major Tom himself. You can imagine how happy I was to see him so I could ask him how I wound up in a well-lit and well-furnished alley. Upon seeing me, however, he turned and ran back into his car, driving away before I had the chance to say hello. I was shocked for a moment, until I realized that, being the owner of a porcelain doll warehouse, he must have many important things to do and was obviously late for a meeting. Upon closer examination of the pale, yellow dog, I became aware of the fact that one side of it's rib cage was noticeably more broken than the other. This was further proof that this was not the very dog that chewed up my first baseball mitt, for I distinctly remember that the very dog that chewed up my first baseball mitt had both sides of its rib cage in full working order. In examining the dog, however, I noticed something much more startling than the fact that it wasn't the dog that had haunted my dreams for years. To make a long story short, next to the dog's ear was a small magnifying glass. Once again, the events of the night came flooding back, and I found myself looking at the object that would allow me to see all the answers. I decided to walk down the road, only sure that I was walking on a sidewalk, but not knowing where I was or where I was going. I hasten to add that I knew where I wanted to go, however I did not know how to get there. I didn't walk far, however, when I something that startled, frightened, and excited me all at the same time, although I admit that being startled is very close to being frightened. To make a long story short, standing a short distance away was the strange old lady, eyes closed as usual. I walked slowly toward her, not wanting to startle her, or frighten her, just in case she was actually sleeping, instead of simply standing with her eyes closed. But the minute I drew near, she opened her eyes, staring right at me, and startling and frightening me yet again. "The man you just saw--" "Yes," I interrupted, for I did not need her to waste my time with little details that didn't matter, "I know who he is." She seemed startled by this and her eyes widened. I was happy to see that her left eye still showed the very dog that chewed up my first baseball mitt and haunted my dreams for years. Her right eye showed the scroll, just as I remembered, and just as unreadable. I felt a strange sensation, one that I remembered feeling earlier. It was a sensation that filled me with elation, and not the deodorant either, and made me ecstatic just at the thought of being able to feel it again. To make a long story short, I had an epiphany. This epiphany was so great and so powerful that I had to ask the old woman to wait while I hunched over, trying to steady myself from the sheer brilliance of said epiphany. I decided then and there that I would attempt to have an epiphany as often as possible, no matter what the consequences may be, for epiphanies brought me to such great knowledge and made me feel such awesome power that I couldn't imagine not having another one. When the epiphany overcame my senses, I looked directly at the strange old lady and uttered words that I don't imagine any of you, or possibly anyone else in the entire world has ever heard. However, after reading the words which I uttered, you will no longer have to bear the burden of not having heard these words before and so, no longer be conforming to the norms of the entire world. To make a long story short, I asked the old woman if I might examine her eye with a magnifying glass. The response, as usual, was not what I expected. I don't mean that I usually expect the unexpected, quite the contrary in fact, but I was beginning to expect, as I'm sure you are as well, that nothing would go as expected on this very unexpected night. To make a long story short, the old woman told me that she would not let me examine the eye unless I first carried it in a can of peas. I imagine you can understand my befuddlement (a word which may cause just as much befuddlement as the event that spawned it) at this demand. I thought to myself, "Why would she want me to carry her eye in a can of peas now? Truly this is the strangest strange old woman I've ever met." It was easy for me to say, for I had not made a habit of meeting strange old women. To make a long story short, I asked her the very question I had asked myself, only excluding the part about her being the strangest strange old woman I had ever met. However, I was feeling rather petulant, so I decided to say something before she could even summon the strength to respond to my original question, that was originally questioned in my head before being questioned in my mouth. To make a long story short, I told the strange old woman that I didn't know where the can of peas went. My voice must have sounded funny, for the strange old woman suddenly smiled and told me to follow her. I was hesitant to do so for several reasons. One, she was a very strange old woman. And two, she had a tendency to walk with her eyes closed. Neither of these traits instilled much confidence in me, but I knew that if I wanted to find out the answer to the question as to why the very dog which haunted my dreams would chew up my first baseball mitt, I had no choice but to follow the strange old woman. I followed behind watching her walk with a slow shuffle. It was only then that I noticed something very odd about this strange old woman. Despite all signs that had shown me this truth, I had never allowed myself to see it before, and now it literally stared me right in the face. It was an epiphany of the gut-wrenching sort. The kind that makes you want to scream at the top of your longs while kicking a can full of beans, or full of air, down the street.