The Martians have landed
Both men looked up at the series of blinking lights and gizmos and thought that maybe the space alien probably needed some rest. Mr. Brazel went off to pick up his 7-year-old son, Vernon, from the J.B. Foster ranch house, which he used to operate.
While he was gone, Ole Johnny Mudd went off to check on his cattle, which weren’t too far away. When he returned to see if the alien was well, Ole Johnny Mudd found him sitting comfortably outside his spacecraft, taking on the cool of the night. He approached him and asked: “Do you have nights like these on your planet?” “The average temperature on my planet, Mars, is a couple hundred degrees lower than that of Earth. You wouldn’t enjoy it because it is too much too cold for your kind. Besides,” he added, “there is almost no oxygen on Mars. Ninety-five percent of our air consists of carbon dioxide, which is lethal to you, but perfect for us. We are like living plants that breathe in carbon dioxide and use it in that atmosphere which is much thinner than here. There is also no evidence of water and therefore there is no condensation of vapor. This is why we have been watching Earth for many years, and particularly, we have been watching the deserts of your planet.”
Ole Johnny Mudd was fascinated by his response, and particularly so because the Martian had communicated all that to him just by thinking at him.
“He still didn’t move his mouth,” Ole Johnny Mudd thought how wonderful the Martian’s silence had been and about just how many wars and battles had happened by loose lips. He sidled up to the Martian and he asked him point blank: “What is your interest in our cows?”
The Martian smiled and projected his thoughts at Ole Johnny Mudd. “Despite what your people might think, we find that cows are very clever animals. In fact, my copilot and I were watching your herd of cattle when we crashed because we weren’t paying attention to the desert hills. We had been studying them for years because they have been eating grass in the desert where your people bury radioactive chemicals. We inspect your cows to try to determine just how much radioactive material they have ingested and how
it is being passed on to your kids in the form of hamburgers.”
Ole Johnny Mudd nodded his head knowingly because the Martian’s response had answered a lot of his questions. Clearly, the Martians were a superior race of beings. As he was pondering this one point, both the Martian and Ole Johnny Mudd heard a truck approaching. It turned out to be Ole Mac Brazel returning with his son. He seemed to be somewhat disheveled as he stepped out of his truck.
“What’s going on, compadre?” Ole Johnny Mudd asked him.
“I’ve just seen many vehicles,” Ole Mac retorted. “They were covered with lights, and they were all scouring the desert floor, trying to locate the flying saucer that came down right here. Half the army and national guard in New Mexico is leaving no stone unturned in their efforts to solve the mystery. They saw some of the metallic debris that I had in my truck and they have been trying to follow me up to here. I had to floor the gas pedal in order to lose them.” He paused: “How is our otherworldly guest?” he asked.
“He’s a little bit more rested,” Ole Johnny Mudd replied. “We’re going to get our Martian visitor out of here before they come looking for him. Once the officials get here, the news reporters and the press will follow and then the world may try to make him a circus sideshow freak.”