"Dad, Dad, do you think ghosts are real?" asked one of my sons. "How about aliens?"

"Dad, Dad, do you believe in monsters?" demanded the other.

I thought carefully about how I should answer. Should I tell them, with all the sincerity I could muster, that these are fictional creations, the product of overactive imaginations and science fiction writers -- thus giving them nights of restful sleep and keeping away visions of things that hide under their beds and go bump in the night? Or should I tell them the complete truth, as I know it?

Well, it's important to be truthful with one's children.

Sure, ghosts are real, I told them. They are doomed to haunt certain houses -- like ours -- for all eternity. They can float through walls, but they won't hurt you -- usually. They just make strange sounds during the night and occasionally freak you out with their icy touch. It's the friendly ghosts you have to watch out for -- all cheery and annoying, wanting to be pals. That's when you call the Ghostbusters.

Aliens? That one is easy. Everyone knows that aliens live among us. They've been here for millions of years -- building the pyramids, accidentally destroying the dinosaurs and rigging the 2004 presidential election in Ohio. Usually, you can recognize them by their three heads, green skin and antennae. Strangely enough, due to a navigational miscalculation, virtually all of the aliens landed in Mexico, and it has taken the best efforts of our secret Men in Black to keep them out of the United States.

As for monsters, I'm afraid those are real, too, and much more dangerous than ghosts. The small ones will hide under your bed and in your closet, waiting with their sharp fangs and long claws to terrify you. But when you flip on the light, they suddenly look like a pile of dirty clothes or the stuffed cat on your bureau.

Champy, the lake monster? He's no danger unless you're a trout, but he's very hard to see. Your best chance is finding a quiet spot on the wooded shore near Ticonderoga and drinking 12 Bud Lights in quick succession.

There is no boogeyman. There is, however, a boogerman.

Bigfoot, it's true, roamed the forests of North America for decades -- until he decided to give up a life of carefree poverty and give professional wrestling a try. After a few years of stardom, he died in the late '90s of complications from performance-enhancing drugs and Rogaine.

Sadly, vampires still roam the planet, but the soulless bloodsuckers are frequently disguised as oil company executives and lawyers. Contrary to legend, vampires can now go out in daylight, thanks to modern sunscreen technology.

As for the crazy stories about pig-men "¦ Yes, there are some "¦ "sturdy" eaters sidling up to the food trough at all-you-can-eat buffets, but the true pig men -- body of a man, face and snout of a pig, are the creation of legend, living on only in "Seinfeld" reruns.

Werewolves on the other hand, are still a problem every full moon. Understand that there are mild cases, which involve a little howling, some unwanted body hair and madd basketball skills (see "Teen Wolf"). Bad cases will cause the infected to eat human flesh, run for political office, yada, yada, yada. Oh, if you're ever infected, don't play with grandma's good silverware.

Have you ever heard of vegans? They look almost like you or me, but their ways are strange and frightening. Tie a juicy slab of prime rib around your neck and they will stay away.

Mummies? If you unwind them, there's a chewy chocolate center.