I wake up and ask, “What the hell was that noise?” I get out of my bed on wobbly legs (wobbly because my body doesn’t quite realize yet that sleep is over and also because that dreadful noise scares the shit out of me), draw back the curtains and look outside.

My jaw drops as I see what was responsible for the noise - and will undoubtedly make some more noise soon enough. I say, “What the hell,” and keep repeating those words, as if my vocal cords are stuck in a loop. There’s this absolutely gigantic spaceship-like thing hovering in the air, uncomfortably close to my house, and someone or something inside is firing at the houses below. To my immense dismay I also note the ship is heading straight this way, and my house is right in its line of fire.

I’m only wearing my underpants, but I realize there’s no time to get dressed (not to mention shaving and taking a shower), so I get out on the street and run for my life - which may well have to be taken literally. Every few seconds a booming and deafening noise like the one that yanked me from my sleep makes the whole town shake on its foundations, and in between I hear people scream and the ominous rumbling of what must be buildings collapsing under the gun fire.

I’m not the only one out on the street looking for safety, I guess everybody must have left their houses, and I recognize some neighbours and friends, all clad in underwear or pyjamas or even stark naked, running off in directions picked at random. There’s chaos and panic and people are in the grip of mortal fear. I look up and see there’s a whole flotilla of spaceships or whatever they are in the air, all catching the rising sun’s first rays, and all converging on our little peaceful town of Newhaven, clearly intent on wiping it off the map.

“Hey, Rudy!”

I know that voice. It’s Enrique, a friend of mine who lives nearby. He’s waving at me from across the street and I hurry towards him. I look at his naked body, dripping with water and soap suds. “I was taking a shower when it started,” he explains. “Let’s go, let’s get away from this madness.” We run off, but it’s hard to figure out where it might be safe, these giant ships are everywhere and firing in all directions. I can see black smoke billowing up behind me, some of the buildings we’re running past are smouldering ruins, and the streets are littered with debris and even a few unmoving bodies of the people who sadly didn’t make it.

Ahead of us two cars and a truck have collided, adding more chaos to the picture, and a bunch of people are coming in our direction, trying to get out of the path of a low-flying spacecraft, its belly almost touching the rooftops, its guns blazing and wreaking massive havoc.

“Follow me in here,” Enrique shouts, and together we dart into a toy store that’s already been partly demolished. Dismembered dolls and shredded teddy-bears are strewn all over the floor, and I trip over their pitiful remains, as if symbolically surrendering in defeat with the toy creatures. Enrique pulls me back to my feet and we stumble through the shop until we force our way through the back door. We’re just in time for behind us the store is torn apart by a powerful blast, and fragments of brickwork and charred toy parts are thrown all around the street.

“I think I know what this is,” Enrique says as we run on and on, pointing at the spaceships hovering over our beloved Newhaven.

“I think I know what you’re thinking, and I suppose you’re right,” I reply. “I should have known right from the start.”

“Why did they pick us? Why Newhaven?”

“I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care. All I know is that I’m not going to watch this one. I hate this sort of crap.”

We keep running, of course, and are joined by a man (naked too, I didn’t know that many people took their shower when I’m still asleep) and a woman (only wearing a torn T-shirt that reveals more than it hides), a couple I vaguely recall having seen in the shopping mall.

“Look,” our new companion says, “Those ships are landing. The bombing is over.” We look at where a spaceship has just touched down, about a hundred meters in front of us, and see how ramps are lowered and creatures in black helmeted suits, armed with futuristic guns come storming out, and open fire at everyone they see. Our new friend is hit, but the woman, Enrique and I dive into a breakfast restaurant where no customers are in sight (and none are expected for the rest of the day, I presume), and head for the back door, hoping we will be able to avoid the trigger-happy space creatures.

“My husband isn’t dead, is he?” the woman asks, panting and groaning with the exertion.

.