I was out for a pleasant evening stroll when two loud voices in argument rose almost to the threshold of pain.

Two adversaries on opposite sides of a table were yelling, raising their fists and reaching toward each other’s throats.

“STOP IT! IMMEDIATELY! RIGHT NOW!” I said with fierce resolve.

They paused in mid-stroke and turned to face me.

I spoke with the quiet resolve of steely authority, “I’ve taken over. I’m in charge now. I call the shots.
You have two choices. Either you die tomorrow as enemies, or live today as friends.”

They looked at me.

I looked at them.

They looked at each other.

They reached across the table and shook hands, then turned toward me, awaiting orders.

I said with finality, “All right then,” and walked away, muttering my annoyance under my breath, “Why must it always be me? It’s so obvious, so easy.”

I climbed into my rocket ship and headed back down to earth, landed in my yard, stepped out, turned my face to the sun, stroked my brow with a tentacle, and went inside my house.