Skeeter worked in the field since he was knee-high to a mole, well, a lanky mole. His father, Scooter, had been a soybean farmer all his life. When Skeeter was twenty-two tragedy struck the family. One hazy afternoon, his dimwitted father perished after trying to blast some chiggers off his shin with a twelve gauge shot gun. He bled to death crawling back to his tractor. In essence, Scooter bought the farm and Skeeter inherited it.
One mushy morning, Skeeter ventured into the field and noticed some of his crops had been flattened in a perfect circle. His first thought was that perhaps the barnyard animals had gotten loose in the night and had a field day in the field. After careful contemplation, he dismissed the thought realizing his livestock were raised with a sense of responsibility and good bedside manners. What could it be, he pondered, as he buried his thumbs under the sweaty arm pits of his overalls. Later that mushy night, Skeeter hit the hay early. (Seriously, his mattress was made of hay.) He was single so he only shared a bed with Bo, his hound dog. Asleep, he dreamed he was floating on a cloud with his two favorite hogs, Porky and Bess. The cloud drifted high above the ground while the three of them leaned over the edge, looking down at many exciting lands. It passed a beautiful city made of straw houses where pigs of every size and shape lived. It was Sueyville.
Exhilarated, the plump hogs began to wag their tails. They wanted the cloud to land but it kept sailing. Soon they passed over a small corn field. Living beneath the stalks were tiny purple gophers. They scurried about and, as the cloud swooped by the colorful rodents, they all stood on their hind legs and began singing, “Everybody Loves Somebody” in an intoxicated Dean Martin drawl. The puffy air cushion wafted on and on until it settled down on a beautiful tropical island. Skeeter and the hogs ran around the beach, snorting, until they nestled under a palm tree and began gorging themselves on pineapples and coconuts. While lying carefree in the warm sun nib bling on jumbo raw shrimps, a group of giant roosters emerged from a nearby jungle. The gigantic cocks trampled over a freshly made sand castle and, using their beaks, picked the three visitors up. The enormous birds began frantically crowing and flapping their wings while pounding the unwelcome guests into the sand. When the fowls felt the meat was tender enough they swallowed the hogs-whole. Frightened, Skeeter plunged his head into a sand dune. His raised buttocks trembled in terror causing his britches to turn a damp, dark color.
It flashed across the sky at an enormous rate of speed. A shiny silver disk shaped like a hubcap off a 57 Chevy. The darkness was illuminated by bright blinking lights that lit up the atmosphere. Wobbling, the saucer hovered over the roof top where the farmer slept. (It was thought that they had turned down the radio to prevent prematurely waking their prey but in reality a Backstreet Boys song had just come on the air.) Bo had awakened and sat at the window whimpering. Skeeter, still in the midst of his nightmare, was just about to be eaten by the hungry cocks. Fortunately, the growling pet interrupted his restless slumber. Foggy and dazed, he sat up in his bed. “Bo, what the hell are yoose doing?” he snapped. Getting up he walked over to the dog mum- bling. “You ain’t nothing but a hound dog. Crying all the time. You ain’t never caught a rabbit…what in the blazes.” His Elvis impersonation was cut off when he noticed a spinning craft outside his window. Quivering, Skeeter looked at Bo. The flea bag looked back at him and cocked his head. “We’re done being invaded boy,” the farmer barked.
Skeeter rushed downstairs with the dog on his heels. He turned around and scolded the playful mutt for biting his slippers. Digging through his closet for his shotgun he haphazardly pulled out a banjo. Thinking it was loaded, he ran out on the front yard. He raised it to his shoulder and pointed the instrument at the fluttering metallic object. “Be gone with yourselves. This here’s private property. It ain’t be open to strangers!” he yelled. The saucer didn’t move. Skeeter screamed, “I’m a counting to three and you done better be gone or I’m a-shootin’!” His minuscule education only allowed him to get to the number. two, but that was good enough for him. He cocked a string. Bo barked furiously for several seconds but soon discovered licking himself was a bit more rewarding.
The lights on the space ship started to rapidly twinkle. Agitated, Skeeter attempted to fire at the blinding flashes. The only thing he hit was an off key chord on the ill tuned instrument strings. “What in the Sam Hill?” he mumbled to him self while looking at his Roy Clark Special. Without warning the saucer’s lights slowly blinked in sequence as an eerie tone played the first line of “Dueling Banjos.” Skeeter stood there like a stage actor who had just forgotten his monologue…even though he had no theatre knowledge. He scratched his cocked head then scratched his cocked bottom. He looked at Bo who was chasing his tail. Dumb founded, he played the second part to the song. The saucer shot back with the next line. The farmer chimed in. In no time, a jam session was launched. The two battled back and forth. Caught up in the Blue Grass melody, Skeeter hopped around picking and strumming while his hound dog howled. Suddenly, the UFO became silent. The farmer hit one last sour chord then abruptly stopped. Bo whimpered then lifted his leg to relieve himself.
The air compressed door began to slowly open. Skeeter took a couple steps backward and fell on his buttocks causing the back door flap on his pants to pop open. Bo excitedly licked his face. “Quit lapping me boy. We done gotta crisis here.” he snapped. An eerie light emanated from the opening. The farmer clutched his mutt with all his might.
Three shadowy figures paraded out of the space ship. In a high off pitch noise they began singing.. “Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name. Where everything is still the same…” The aliens continued on with the song as they circled the frightened farmer and his cowering hound. Befuddled, Skeeter whispered to Bo, “Don’t move boy, they might could be some of them there illegal Mexican immigrants.” The aliens finished their melodic rendition and stood over the shivering pair. Finally, the lead alien blurted out, “What’s happening Rog?” Skeeter looked at him like a stumped contestant on “Wheel Of Fortune.” “My name is Squiggy and these are my brothers Meathead and Horseshack. We are as close as “The Brady Bunch’ boys. And, we are from Telador and we boldly go where no one has been before.” Skeeter thought for a minute then calmly inquired, “Telador, huh? They got a Piggly-Wiggleys there?”
The aliens invited the farmer and his dog on board the spaceship. While walking into the craft one alien yelled “Lucy, I’m home!” then proceeded to laugh like Ricky Ricardo. “This is our full house, without the Olsen twins.” Meathead stated. Horseshack petted Bo and mumbled “Ooo, Rin Tin Tin.” Skeeter looked around then replied, “I’m thinkin’ of gittin me a mobile home too. What kinda mileage this thing get?”
The inside resembled the television set of Pee Wee Playhouse with a globey, chairy, and a radio (referred to as conkey). Skeeter examined a beautiful corked bottle on the dresser. “That was a gift from Major Healy,” Squiggy remarked. There was also a room with a big screen TV with shelves filled with micro videos of every television show ever produced. On the floor, near the couch, sat a large tub of popcorn. Bo made himself at home by sticking his snout in the bucket and slurping up the buttered kernels. Horseshack and Meathead imitated the furry creature causing him to snarl. The aliens snarled back as a sign of good will. Squiggy continued to show Skeeter the living quarters. On the wall hung a poster of Sean Cassidy, an infamous Hardy Boy. Next to it was a life size picture of Farrah Fawcett in a bathing suit. A juke box sat in the corner blasting “Sunday, Monday, Happy Days…”
The aliens sat down in a booth and invited Skeeter and Bo to join them for a meal. “I hope you like to consume Brontosaurus Burgers. Granny’s possum pie, and Jell-O pudding?” Squiggy asked in a Cosby slur. “Ain’t never had ’em. I like taters though,” Skeeter replied. As soon as taters’ emerged from his mouth a duck on a string dropped from the ceiling. Meathead threw on a some glasses, a plastic nose and moustache. Wiggling a cigar in his hand he mumbled, “And you guessed the secret word.” The farmer leaned back, stared at the pseudo Marx brother, then replied, “You’re plum loco, ain’t you boy?”
“Wheezy, where the food be?” Squiggy yelled. A robot rolled out of the kitchen with a platter of TV dinners and set it on the table. It flapped his arms while yelling “Warning! Dr.Smith! Warning!” then vanished back into the kitchen. “Where you boys from?” Skeeter asked. Meat head spoke up, “We are from a dis tant galaxy.” Skeeter chewed his food and replied, “I find that hard to believe.” Horseshack, in a Maxwell Smart voice, responded, “Would you believe the third rock from the sun?” During the meal a record played in the background. “What the hell is this god awful music” Skeeter asked. “Groovy, isn’t it? It’s “The Partridge Family.” Horseshack replied. “It’s Di-no-myte!” yelled Meathead as he bobbed his head to the beat. “Sounds like a pig with his leg caught in the fence” Skeeter blurted out. The remark caused the three aliens to look at each other. In unison they yelled, “Arnold!” then begin singing. “Green Acres is the place to be…”
Skeeter unbuttoned his belt and rocked back in his chair. “Dem was good vittles,” he said patting his belly and burping. The aliens reciprocated the compliment by burping back. Skeeter began to stand up. “You fellers need help with the dish es?” “No, leave it,” Squiggy said.
“To Beaver” Meathead added. “So, what brings you fellers to my farm?” Skeeter inquired. “Our mission, should we choose to accept it, is to explore new frontiers, like Daniel Boone,” Squiggy responded. Skeeter thoughtfully rubbed his fingers threw his beard while attempting to suck lodged food particles threw his teeth. “Well, not much happens round here. Just got Bo spaded,” the farmer slowly said. Meathead blurt ed out, “We wanna meet the Fonz!” Horseshack chimed in, “And Latka.. Thank you very much Alex.” Skeeter stares at the odd couple then says “You boys been nipping in the moonshine?”
The foursome adjourned into the living facility. Meathead and Horse shack sat directly in front of the big TV. They turned it on to a Three Stooges marathon. Suddenly, the three aliens leaped up and began slapping and poking each other in the eyes. Bo started barking. Meat head fanatically rubbed his hand over his face and began barking back. Horseshack circled the room yelling, “Whoob, whoob, woob”
Skeeter jumped up and said, “What the dickens is going on here?” “Yea, sit on it you numskulls!” Squiggy snapped. The aliens settled down. “You folks must got some ants in your pants. You’re running around squawking like a chicken with it’s head done cut off.”
Horseshack and Meathead watched “The Simpsons” while Squiggy conversed with Skeeter. “We have learned all about your culture by intercepting your satellite waves and the facts of life from Miss Garrett.” The two aliens watching TV mumbled, “Eat my shorts.” Skeeter stood up and scratched his rear end. He pondered as he packed his pipe with tobacco. Then he said, “It ain’t possible. Nope. It just ain’t possible. You fellers can’t learn about us folks from a television set-unless you watch ‘Dukes of Hazard’ or somin’ real like that.” Suddenly, the three aliens lit up and yelled “Sheriff Lobo!” Calmly. Skeeter nods his head and assuredly responds, “I heard that.”
Skeeter took the aliens outside to show the farm and give them a taste of earth life. Thinking they were on Hee Haw the aliens request ed to meet Minnie Pearl. “I got me a heifer named Minnie,” the farmer replied. Skeeter showed them the premises and introduced them to his horse. “Hello Ed,” Horseshack said. Squiggy stroked him, “Ooo, he is gentle like Ben.” The aliens began to dance around the stallion singing, “A horse is a horse of course…” The baffled farmer put his hands on his hip slowly sucked on a straw of hay. Meathead leaped on the horse’s back and dug his heels into the side of the Stallion causing it to race around the corral. The petrified alien hung on for dear life as he screamed, “Jane! Stop this crazy thing!”
Next, Skeeter showed them his roosters. “Wow, they are the size of Webster,” Squiggy stated. Horse shack quips, “They look like Punky Brewster.” The rooster began to squawk. This incites Squiggy to talk like Foghorn Leghorn and taunt the dog by paddling him on his butt with a fence post. Bo begins to whimper. “What the hell you doing boy?” Skeeter angrily remarked. “You done see what you did to the dawg.” Squiggy replied, “I see no think. Noth…ink!” Then he leaned over and lightly slapped Skeeter’s face and in a cocky Kojack manner said, “Hey pussy cat, who’s your daddy?” “My pa’s been dead for twelve years, thank you very much,” the farmer said as he stomped off in a huff.
Meathead wanted to know if they could go into town and meet Aunt Bee and Opee. “I want to meet Klinger!” Horseshack yelled. “She’s hot, like a golden girl.” Perturbed, Skeeter retorted, “We ain’t going no wheres. I gots me some tilling to do. I think it’s best you boys leave.” “Ah shazbot!” Squiggy screamed. “No need for cursing, young fella,” the farmer scolded. “Kiss my grits, Mel” Meathead chimed in. The farmer stared them down then said, “My name ain’t Mel and I think you boys have over stayed your welcome yere.” “What choo talkin’ bout Willis?” Horseshack grunted. “Maybe you oughta get back to the city” Skeeter sniped. Meathead grabbed his chest, staggering he cried, “I’m coming Elizabeth! This is the big one.” Skeeter comforted them with a “I’m rightly sorry boys but you’re starting to scare the dawg.” Squiggy smiled and replied, “You are right, three’s company.” The aliens looked at each other and without missing a beat began singing “Come and knock on our door….” Skeeter put his head in his hands and Bo painfully howled.
Finally, the aliens, realizing the fun had ended, walked over to say their good-byes. Horseshack shook the farmer’s hand with the infamous Flintstone secret water buffalo hand shake. Meathead grabbed Skeeter’s and said, “I hope you get off this island little buddy.” Squiggy slowly shuffled up. Tears filled his eyes. Breaking down he hugged the farmer and cried, “Oh, Mr. Grant!” The gesture touched him causing him to look down and say, “Ah shucks.” The three aliens took turn spatting the dog on the head. Bo looked at Meathead funny when he quipped “Lassie, go home.” “Where you boys off to next? Tupelo?” Skeeter inquired as he gnawed on a long blade of grass. Squiggy turned around and in a booming voice replied, “To the moon Alice! To the moon!” The ship sailed off leaving a perfect circle in the wheat field. Skeeter looked at Bo and said, “Dem some strange fellers. Come on boy, let’s go get you a Scooby snack.”
by Jeff Charlebois