Editor’s note — I wrote this column several years back, but in honor of today’s release of files at war.gov/ufo, I thought it was a good time to share it again.
I was relishing a rare day without a necktie when the huge triangular ship hovered silently over my house, blocking out the sun. I was grateful for the shade, since it was August, but I still ran a finger down the hammer of the rifle leaning against the porch railing.
A smaller version of the triangular vessel dropped out of an open hatch and landed in my driveway. The Catahoula hounds howled, hackles raised. Bucky the Goat rose from his bed in the shade, rattling the chain that keeps him under control when he’s in the rut.
I turned and called to my wife.
“Dolly, we have company. Would you please fix a couple glasses of tea?”
A hatch opened on the side of the little vessel. Three fellows with green skin, odd shaped hands and big heads stepped out. They wore odd-looking jumpsuits. One lifted a four-fingered hand and waved in such a way that I figured it was a new experience for him.
I waved back, got up from my chair, tucked the Winchester under my arm, and walked toward them. The Catahoulas growled but settled when I shushed them.
The greenman who waved was staring at a device about the size of a smart phone. The others peered over his shoulder, whispering, then all three smiled. At least, I guess they were smiling. Their expressions reminded me of an old lady who was trying to be nice after she had smelled something dreadful, which is entirely possible at my house, especially on a weekend.
“Howdy,” I said. “How may I help you?”
“Greetings to youse,” one of them said, pushing a button on his jumpsuit. The smart phone flashed when he pushed the button. He had a gold emblem on his jumpsuit. “Is ‘greetings’ an appropriate, non-offensive salutation?”
“It will work,” I said.
Another greenman, who had a blue badge on his jumpsuit, smiled even broader. “We smile to show we come in pieces.”
The greenman in the middle hissed and waved a finger. His badge was gold.
“Peace, not pieces. Do not offend the Earthling.”
“No offense taken. Pardon me for stating the obvious, but you ain’t from around here, are you?” The three conferred again, looking at the smartphone.
“We are from outer space, a planet far from here,” the leader said.
“Your accents kind of gave that away,” I joked. Once again the smartphone. The leader’s smile went away, and he blinked – but his eyelids came from the sides.
“Our dialects are automatically linked to the last community we visited,” he said. “Are there tribal differences between here and Lee-land?”
“Quite a few, since folks started moving in from up north,” I said. The leader’s eyes narrowed, and he seemed to scowl at one of the other greenmen. This one had a red badge.
“Did I not tell youse that the artistic documentary was a poor choice for research materials?” The greenman hung his head.
“Apologies. But the documentary was of great amusement. The Bugs Bunny, especially.”
“No apologies needed,” I replied. “We like Bugs, too. Y’all are in the country now. There’s a lot of folks who say you never hear a Southern accent in Leland anymore. All the Yankees, you know. It’s like a whole different language. Like what you said – youse. The term is ‘y’all’ after you get about a mile past Maco.”
“Yawl,” the leader said, and did something with his smartphone. All three greenmen repeated the word. The device repeated the word.
“Close enough,” I replied. Bucky reared and bellowed. The greenmen drew back in fear.
“Does it bite? Can the being get free? Why is it tethered to the quercus virginiana?” I chuckled.
“Well, he doesn’t bite, but he does use his horns to hurt others when he is in the rut – err, when he wants to mate. He hasn’t broken that chain yet.”
“Why do you not let it mate?” the leader asked. I raised my eyebrows and whistled. Goats of all shapes and sizes came creeping out of the woods, warily watching the strangers.
“We have a surplus of, ahh, mating products,” I said. Elvis the rooster strutted across the yard, looked at the greenmen, and crowed.
“Does the avian also want to mate?” Red asked. Elvis fluffed his feathers, jumped and tried to spur Red Badge. I caught the bird with my walking stick and sent him flying, not wanting my idiot rooster to start an intergalactic war.
“The rooster mates every day,” I said, “but we do not have a surplus of mating products. We eat them before they can mature.” Gold stared at me.
“You devour their young as embryos?”
“With cheese, bacon and grits,” I said. They consulted the smartphone, and whispered amongst themselves. Just then the geese came honking up from the ditch. Leviatha the Mama Goose hissed, flapped her wings and tried to bite Bluebadge.
“Why did you not devour these when they were young?” he said, trying to fend off the angry goose. I grabbed the goose by the neck, tucked her wings, and held her close.
“Because they’re pretty, and they’re good at running off coyotes and trespassers. We eat their eggs, too, but they don’t lay as many as the other avians, err, the chickens.” Leviatha reached out and hissed at the Greenmen, who all took a step back. I dropped her in the goose pool, and she squawked angrily before toddling away.
Lauren and Gloria had edged closer and closer to the front yard fence, growling deeply as they stared at the Greenmen.
“Do you eat the canine young?” Blue asked. I chuckled.
“No. They are pets – companions.”
“But the other species are also companions.”
“Yes.”
“But you consume them for food.”
“On occasion.”
“But not these?”
“Goodness, no.”
“Fascinating,” Red said. Gold shook a finger at him again.
“I instructed you not to use colloquialisms from the wide beam broadcasts when speaking to the earthlings. This one might not enjoy that particular wide beam broadcast. Some humans are very adamant in their preferences. Have you learned nothing?”
“I’m more into Star Wars than Star Trek,” I said, “but that’s okay. No harm, no foul.” Gold stared at the smartphone again, his lips moving as he read. Then he looked up and smiled.
“I am glad to have not caused offense.”
“May I ask, what is that thing you keep reading?” I said. Gold held it up. I saw what looked like a keyboard and a small screen.
“This allows us to communicate, and it records and explains social standards and traditions.”
‘So, you guys – I guess you’re guys – have been here before?” Blue shook his head.
“Was that a negative gesture? Our tribe has not been here before. This was designed by one of our researchers back home.” I grinned.
“So, you have a device to communicate with a people you’ve never met before designed by someone who has never met those people?” All three nodded violently.
“Positive gesture? Yes. Surely you do not have those here?”
“Have you seen a traffic roundabout?” I asked. “Positive gesture – I mean, we sure do. We call them government workers.”
Rhonda came out the front door holding four glasses of tea. A baby possum was clinging to her hair. All three greenmen opened their mouths wide, and their eyes blinked rapidly.
“Expressions of surprise. What is that tiny being? Is that your mate?”
“Yes,” I said. “This is my mate, err wife. This is Miss Rhonda.”
“Hello, boys – I guess you’re boys?”
“Greetings,” Blue said. All three raised a hand and waved. “We ain’t from around here. Did I say that properly?”
“Just right,” I said. “Could we offer you a drink? This is about as hard a drink as we have around here.”
“How is liquid hard when it is not in a stage of ice?” Red asked. Gold glared at him.
“He means it is not the tradition to have ethyl alcohol in their home,” Gold said.
“Apologies,” Red said, staring at the Mason jar. I could tell they were a little uncomfortable, so I sipped the sweet tea. They did the same. Their mouths made the same surprised “O” as before. I guessed they liked sweet tea.
Blue gestured toward the baby possum.
“Is this your offspring? It causes pleasing emotional reactions.” Rhonda shook her head.
“No. This one was abandoned by its mother, and I care for it now. Soon it will be turned loose.”
“Do you consume these offspring?” Blue asked.
“Not hardly,” I said.
“Confusion,” Blue said. “Oh, look. The dangerous being has broken his chain.”
Bucky had indeed, broken his chain, and charged full force into the side of the shuttle craft. His horns made a crashing noise as he dented the metal. The other goats took the attack as a cue, and proceeded to jump on top of the spacecraft.
“Dodgastit,” I said. “I’m sorry, fellows.” Rhonda began calling Bucky, promising him a treat, and after one more jarring impact against the little spacecraft, he sauntered over, snorted at the Greenmen, rubbed against Red, then followed Rhonda. I yelled at the rest of the flock, and they scattered back into the woods.
Red shoved a finger in his single nostril.
“That is an unpleasant eminence,” he said. The others nodded their heads as violently as before.
“Goats do stink,” I agreed. “Look do you want me to call a body and fender friend of mine? I hate Bucky damaged your ride.” Blue looked at another smartphone thing, then nodded at Gold.
“It is all well,” Gold said. “The damage should puff out.”
“You mean buff out?” Gold looked at his smartphone, and nodded.
“You fellows want to join me on the porch and visit for a little while?”
Hours later, Gold stood in front of the commander of the spaceship.
“What is your evaluation?”
Gold looked at the monitor, where he could see the humans were waving at the departing spaceship.
“They are very hospitable, but every being down there is dangerous. The smelly ruminants are trained to damage conveyances. There are avian species that also attack. The humans we met here are all armed, and they talk about someone named Jesus who is very powerful.
“I do not recommend additional contact – although I admit, I have a hankering for some more of that iced tea. I saved you a piece of pound cake.”
