I grab the foil-wrapped hot dog and sprinkle a handful of change into the food truck's tip jar. As I turn to exit the line, I crash into a woman and her kindergarten-aged daughter waiting behind me. Smooth.
After steadying the daughter and mumbling an apology, I stroll to my ancient convertible and slide into the driver's seat. I unwrap my bun-less, Keto-friendly hot dog, but before I can take a bite, freckles of reflected green light explode from the sweaty beads of oil covering its surface.
I notice my hair lifting, strand by strand, in the rearview mirror, as if I'm hugging a Van de Graaff generator. Static spreads across my body, and I feel myself levitating out of my seat. The beam of light engulfing me rips my hot dog from my fingers. I watch, powerless, as it shoots into the sky.
I grab the wheel and stretch the sun-crusted seatbelt across my lap to tether myself. Decades of food crumbs, faded receipts, and forgotten change float up from under my seats.
The beam intensifies, and the weight of the car, buckled across my lap, threatens to rip my legs off. Just as I scream out in pain, the beam stops, and I plop back into my seat. My eyes dart around to see if anybody witnessed my ordeal, but nobody seems to have noticed.
I scramble to get my keys out of my pocket, determined to escape while I can.
The young mother and her child step out from under the food truck's awning.
I shove my keys into the ignition, heart pounding.
The daughter's hair begins to stretch upward, and she lets out a bleat as her feet leave the ground.
I turn the key in the ignition.
The mother screeches and grabs her daughter around the waist to anchor her to Earth.
I pump the gas pedal to coax the whimpering engine to life.
The mother's feet leave the ground.
I curse, pop the buckle of my seatbelt, leap across my seats, and race towards the girl and her mom.
The mom's feet are waist level when I arrive and shove the two out of the beam. They fall to the ground, but my momentum isn't enough for me to escape with them. I soar upwards, screaming past the tree tops and into the clouds.
As I clear the top of one of the lower clouds, I see a hovering disk the size of a large serving plate. A verdant beam, shimmering from a circular door at the bottom of the ship, pulls me in. My head enters the opening, but gets stuck a little above my ears.
Incomprehensible clicks and wheezes rattle through the ship and into my skull. Soon, I hear a velvety computer voice say, 'Language confirmed,' and the alien sounds transform into English, revealing a rant about perspectives and miscalculated scales. The ship takes off with me dangling below, a screeching abductee wearing an unidentified flying sombrero, rocketing into the unknown.