You decide not to act. The lights go out. The first alien has a spotlight on him. He has a cane and a hat. He breaks off into a rendition of what seems to be a takeoff of "I think I'm Gonna Like It Here," from the musical Annie. Four more aliens join in, tap dancing around you in a figure eight.

 How in the world did they get their feet to fit into a child's tap shoe? You wonder and then realize it must be bondage.

 At the song's climax, you are whisked onto stage for a group photo. After some deliberation, they entitle you "Grand Admiral of the Seventh Battle Fleet."

  They think it's really cool.

 So do you. And that's why you decide that life here in the alien's hideaway will suit you just fine. Woo Hoo!