“All right, Mr. Jenkins. Can you tell our viewers what happened last night on your farm?”
Fred Jenkins, a long-time farmer in the rolling hills of Western Pennsylvania, hesitated because he wasn’t quite sure what had happened. He didn’t want anybody to be taking him to the funny farm. But something sure did happen.
“Mr. Jenkins, are you all right?” The reporter asked.
Fred turned around and pointed to his pasture behind a hay barn on his property. “It was over there about seven o’clock, and the sun was going down.”
“What exactly did you see?”
“The missus and I were sitting on the front porch when we heard this whining noise getting louder and louder. And a shiny object about the size of the barn was lowering itself into the pasture.”
Fred waited a minute before he continued. He was shaking so badly, and sweat was running down his face. “Okay, so this shiny white barn landed next to my barn. I grabbed my shotgun and headed toward it.”
“Where you frightened?”
“Hell, I’m still frightened. A GD flying barn lands in your pasture. I didn’t know what I was going to do.”
“Did you think about calling 911?”
Fred stared at the reporter. She had to be kidding. What was 911 going to do? Send the police out, or maybe the FBI? “No, they’d think I was crazy.”
“Have you ever had a stroke or a mental breakdown, Mr. Jenkins?”
“Do you want to hear the rest of the story?”
“I’m sorry. Go ahead.”
“Well, my wife stayed on the porch while I made it to the pasture. This barn thing was blasting some music. It was loud, kind of like rock and roll. A ramp was lowered, and two little fellows in white jumpsuits came down the ramp.”
“What did they look like? Where they in human form?”
“That’s the darndest thing. They looked like my twin cousins in Ohio.”
Fred started to wonder if he was crazy. The reporter shook her head and smiled pitifully. “I yelled at them, but they didn’t speak English. They were Martian, I guess.”
“Why do you think they were Martians?”
“Oh, hell, I don’t know where they were from. For all I know, they might have been from the moon.”
“Let’s just say they are aliens.”
Fred wanted a drink about now.” So anyway, these two fellers were standing next to the ramp, and here’s the real crazy part. My cattle in the pasture were lining up to go up the ramp. I ain’t joking!”
“You know, Mr. Jenkins, there have been similar reports of alien craft beaming up cattle. But you say they were walking voluntarily into the space barn.”
“Lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Beaming? A cow is pretty damn heavy.”
“Mr. Jenkins, do you want to continue this interview, or should we take a little break?”
“No, I don’t need any break. Twenty head of cattle lined up and walked up the ramp in the shiny barn. I started to run toward them, shouting, but they didn’t stop. The two little fellers waited until the last cow boarded, followed them, and the ramp went up. And my god, I don’t have a cow on the farm.”
“That’s quite a story, Mr. Jenkins. Well, I hope you find your cattle.”
“Find my cattle! What am I supposed to do? Jump on my spaceship and go looking for alien cow rustlers.”
“Do you have a spaceship, Mr. Jenkins?”
Fred said enough. He walked away and left the lady from Channel Five standing in the pasture, probably thinking he was a nut. He knew what he saw, and by damn, that’s all it happened.