(from the Beaumont Enterprize [Hearst newspapers], June 17, 2002)

ALIEN INVADERS ON THE BAYOU

Not to alarm anyone, but I think I should report that a landing party of space aliens touched down in the bayou behind the cabin this morning. It was just at dawn that Jazzy dog began raising the alarm. Thankfully, she has a box full of new puppies under the old couch on the back porch, so she has been uncommonly vigilant lately. As her frenzied barking echoed under the eves of the tin roof, my wife and I instinctively huddled even more deeply into the covers of the bed. I glanced reassuringly over at the missus, who implored me to save the unsuspecting world, the fear obviously affecting her vocal cords and making it sound like, ‘would you PLEASE shut that dog up!”

As a defensive ploy, she then feigned a light snore from under the protection of her grandmother’s old quilt, which she had surreptitiously jerked off my side of the bed. I realized it would be once again up to me alone, to answer duty’s call as I stumbled about in the half light, pulling on an old pair of shorts and floppy shoes. I slipped quietly into the early shadow of the back porch, and looked about for a suitable weapon. A feeling of confidence began to grow in me when I spotted my trusty old garden hoe. The weapon of generations of grandmothers, and the bane of all invading creatures, the hoe has served throughout time as one of mankind’s most formidable pieces of military hardware. It is little known history that Napoleon was whacked with a hoe at Waterloo, that Caesar relied upon the hoe to assist his legions in domination of the civilized world, and that Hannibal would surely have failed without the hoe to prod his pachyderms over the Alps. I read somewhere that there are even cave paintings in France, showing bands of half-naked men stalking dinosaurs with nothing more than primitive garden hoes. Now armed, I eased through the screen door, careful to first spit on the squeaky hinges, so as not to spook my quarry.

I stealthily crept down to the waters edge, where the dawn mists were rising like ghostly steam above a witch’s cauldron, and the still barking dog was bravely but foolheartily holding the intruders at bay. I would describe for you their hideous green bodies, covered with glowing slime, and the cold blankness of unblinking orange eyes, but unfortunately, by the time I snuck up behind the largest of the ancient cypresses, the aliens had managed to transform themselves into the image of two fishermen in a bass boat. They even wore ball caps with logos of farm equipment, and occasionally took bites of Greasy Slim’s Sausage Sticks. They are clever devils; clever, indeed.

Jazzy dog and I stared across the water at them. They cast their lines into the water and cranked their reels, in approximation of previously observed human activities, I’m sure. I wondered, should they actually catch a fish, would the unlucky creature be torn to shreds and devoured before our eyes, or would it be beamed up, to be suspended in a vacuum chamber aboard some monstrous mother-ship? I wondered if the same fate might await us two lone defenders of this tiny and fragile green planet? The pair of alien creatures-turned-fishermen stared back at us across the dark waters of the bayou, obviously intimidated by the garden hoe and my outward willingness to use it. Jazzy dog growled occasionally, her challenges creeping across the water-fog like the daybreak shadows of bankline willows.

The alien creatures powered the boat, never taking their eyes off of us, and suddenly disappeared around a bend, leaving the bayou safe and peaceful again. Jazzy dog and I walked back up the long slope of the lawn, the sun broke out of the trees at the far horizon, and an unknowing civilization slumbered on in unspoken gratitude, secure once again, because down on the bayous which run along the edge of the world, there are men and dogs, ...and garden hoes.

You’re welcome.

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), June 19, 2002

Answers

(just a bump to the new answers page)

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), June 19, 2002.

LOL, Lon. I've seen lots of peculiar things while fishin, but I'll have to really keep an eye out now that I know they could be out on the water in disguise.

-- (sonofdust@Jazzy.dog), June 19, 2002.

Thanks for the whimsy, Lon! LOL

"I read somewhere that there are even cave paintings in France, showing bands of half-naked men stalking dinosaurs with nothing more than primitive garden hoes." You read this here, perhaps? ;-)

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), June 19, 2002.

Lon: Did you ever stop to think that maybe the aliens wanted the pupwursts and that you kept them pups from a good home?!

PS Thanks for saving the world AGAIN!

-- LindaMc (jmcintyre1@mmcable.com), June 20, 2002.

Pupwursts! That's it Linda, fer sure! I shoulda known that them Space Aliens were monitoring this forum, and got wind of the possumgator terrier pups. Man, if only I'd thought a minute - THEY prolly have 2 samoleans, (unlike anybody who hangs around this joint).

Actually, the last ad did the trick with the pupwursts. I got rid of ever last one of 'em. And now me and Iggie are thinkin' about expandin' into the registered mut business. I mean, if'n we started keeping some of the pups, it wouldn't be no time a-tall that we could have just a bunch of the ugly little critters to sell.

I figger I lost about 60 bucks on that last litter, but just think, if I had, say, two litters a month..........why the possibilities are just limitless! We could be the possumgator terrier KINGS! Dominate the entire bayou market! Become even more famouser! Have strange women calling the house at all hours of the night! (well, to think of it, Iggie already has that last one)

I'll let you know when we go on the stock exchange. Whatta think, Multinational Unlimited Terriers & United Globally Linked Yappers (stock symbol MUTUGLY)?

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), June 20, 2002.

She pulled the covers off of you?????? !!!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA..........!

(How cruel and mean.....our loved ones can be.)

Now, what's this about undocumented fur-in-others?

-- Robert A. Cook, PE (racookpe@earthlink.net), June 21, 2002.

:)

-- helen (hoes@hose.whose?), June 24, 2002.

Lon, did you write that piece? It's wonderful! Was it really published in the Beaumont Enterprise? (You spelled it with a 'z' so I didn't know if you were just playing with us?)

Glad to hear all of the puppies found a home. We had several litters of registered Beagle puppies years ago when the kids were little. Never had any trouble selling them, but it was a LOT of work. Forget getting rich... considering all of your time and expense, it isn't much money. However, we loved the puppies and had fun playing with them. We carefully paired the puppy's personality to the new owner and had wonderful success. It was a neat experience.

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), June 24, 2002.

Lon ... Did you get your covers back?

-- Robert A. Cook, PE (racookpe@freezing.inthedark), June 27, 2002.

Gayla, a'course I wrote it, couldn't you tell? And the Enterprise (you don't spell it with a Z?) did print it; they're picking up some of my stuff occasionally, but no formal arrangements yet.

BTW, the paper editor cut the part about spitting on the old hinges. Am I the only one who knows about this?

Oh, and I got the covers back. It makes a good bed for me and Jazzy dog, out on the back porch.

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), June 30, 2002.

LOL Lon. Looks like it is only a matter of time for ya hit it Big!

Good Sir of Cooke; I regret to inform you that your AAAHHHAAA is not compliant ;-) How could you forget the rule!!!!

-- (sonofdust@equal.letters), June 30, 2002.

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Okay ... All better now.

(Lon got his covers back.)

-- Robert A. Cook, PE (racookpe@earthlink.net), June 30, 2002.

Am I the only one who noticed this:

"....years ago when the kids were little. Never had any trouble selling them, but it was a LOT of work. "

I just can't hardly believe it. Our own Gayla Sue, the voice of correctness. I mean she sold her KIDS! Well, at least she was smart enough to sell them when they was little. A couple of mine were cute when they were pups, but now I couldn't get a Canuckian dime for 'em.

I'm just soooo shocked. Gayla, fer cryin' out loud!

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), June 30, 2002.

Come to think of it, I SHOULD have sold the kids and kept the puppies! ;-)

-- Gayla (privacy@please.com), July 01, 2002.

I'm confused, Lon.

Was it a lot work for Gayla making the kids, or selling them?

-- Robert A. Cook, PE (racookpe@earthlink.net), July 01, 2002.

Well, Sir Cook, it must not have been too much work, 'cause she sure didn't ask for MY help with either occasion. (I would have remebered, I'm sure)

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), July 02, 2002.