Maybe it's the Water

Seven in the morning last Thursday, and Chandler and I are out for his early walk in the cool air of dawn. In the gray morning light I noticed my neighbor standing at the edge of the road in her robe and slippers.
"Alan, come here." she whispered while motioning me across.
As I approached her I noticed that her eyes were opened wide and a bit bloodshot.
"Hi Kathy..."
"Shhh, look down the street. Do you see those bright lights?"
I did see the bright lights. They were the street lights from the street just across the canal.
"Those are alien ships. They've been out here all night, since three thirty this morning."
I looked at Kathy again, trying to determine if she was kidding me.
"They've been chasing cats and dogs up and down the street all night, eating them."
I stood there with a grin on my face, waiting for her to break out laughing at the hilarious joke she was pulling on me.
"I'm terrified that they'll come back."
She wasn't kidding.
"Really? Are you sure you didn't watch some kind of crazy movie last night?"
"No Alan, this is for real. Don't walk down there, they'll eat Chandler."
As she stood there clutching the front of her robe, I assured her that Chandler and I would be just fine.
"I wouldn't worry. The sun is coming up, and everything will be okay."
I wasn't quite sure what I should do. Obviously Kathy was not right, but what do I do? Should I go up to her house and get her husband? Maybe he's also out of his mind. Maybe they were both up all night doing drugs, and he's even crazier than she is. Maybe he's laying in there on the floor, eviscerated with a kitchen knife because Kathy thought he was an alien invader. I did not know what to do, so I did what any good neighbor would do, I said goodbye and went about my own business.

Three thirty in the morning, Friday. It's a beautiful night, temperature in the mid sixties, all the windows open, and a nice breeze moving through the house. Something has awakened me. It's a man's voice, and he's shouting something. After a few moments the voice fades off in the distance, and I try to go back to sleep. Again, about fifteen minutes later, I hear the voice, so I get up. Out on the street, a man with long hair pulled back in a ponytail, in his bathrobe, with flip flops on his feet, is shouting the Lord's Prayer at the top of his lungs. I wasn't sure if it was the Catholic version, or the protestant version, but I knew what to do this time. I called the police, and went back to bed. Damn aliens.