Plausible Deniability

By Wesley Lambert

"May I record this interview, Mr. Wilson?"

"Yep. Go right ahead."

"Tell me what you saw, this morning."

"Wal, I was out sloppin' my hawgs, when I seen a big shiny thing zip across the sky. It wobbled, like it had trouble stayin' in the air, an' smoke shot out its rear-end. It crashed behind that there patch of cottonwoods. I grabbed my shotgun an' snuck over fer a look. Past the trees, down in a little gully, I seen a round thing layin' on the ground, all broke open, with flames comin' out. Little glowin' blue men dragged their friends outta the wreck. They weren't people, ‘less ya consider blue baldies people.

"It skeered me, so I ran back home. I had a snort to gather my wits, an' went back out to the crash-site. I couldn't find the ship. No blue men, an' no bodies. Just a charred ditch. An' that's my story."

"Are you sure, Mr. Wilson? I mean, are you positive about what you experienced?"

"‘Course I am. Jest as sure as your granddaddy's granddaddy fought fer the Union."

"What do you propose to do, now, sir?"

"Wal, yer the first person I've tawked to. But I reckon I'll call the newspapers, my buddies, maybe even the po-leece. Sonny, yer lookin' a little peaked."

"I suspected you would say that, Mr. Wilson. I am afraid I cannot allow you to tell anyone else."

"Huh? Why's that? Hey, why're you pointin' yer recorder at me? Ya gonna rewind me to death?"

"Actually, this is not a tape recorder. Rather, it is a weapon, a neutralization device. Allow me to demonstrate."

"Yowza, Sonny! Y'almost hit my foot! My rooster ain't movin'! Ya killed him, didn't ya?"

"Sir, he is not dead. Merely stunned and immobilized."

"You jest wait ri'chere. I'm gettin' my shotgun."

"Mr. Wilson, if you move toward your house, I will be forced to neutralize you. I would prefer not to do that."

"Tarnation! What's that blue mist formin' around ya? Hey, yer one'a them blue fellers, from the ship!"

"Yes, Mr. Wilson. Very astute. Please follow me."

"Where to?"

"We are leaving, sir. You must go with me to my ship."

"I like it ri'chere on earth, thankee very much! I got Constydelusional rights!"

"They do not apply. You have no choice. It is necessary for you to accompany me to my ship. We must retain plausible deniability of our presence  here. For the sake of your people, and ours. My government would be displeased, otherwise. You do not want that to happen. Therefore, we must take you with us."

"I won't tell nary a soul about ya. I promise. An' I was jest funnin' ya, earlier, with that ‘baldie' remark. I need a rug, m'self."

"Mr. Wilson, let us depart."

"Dern it, Ethel was right! She was always right. Back before she disappeared, she said: ‘Roy, mind yer own bidness. Roy, don't be nosy.' But did I lissen? N-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o! I shoulda stayed in bed, this mornin'."

"Ethel? Your wife?"

"Yep. Vanished nigh on to three years ago, last week. God rest her soul."

"Sir, we have your wife. She is with us."

"Aw, go on! Next you'll be blabbin' that we really walked a astrynaut on the moon!"

"Sir, the United States of America landed two astronauts on luna on July 20, 1969. Several others of the same nationality have walked on earth's satellite, since then."

"Yer joshin' me!"

"I am quite serious. It is true."

"And Ethel's on your ship?"

"No. She resides on our home world, now."

"An' that's where we're a-goin'?"

"Yes."

"How'd she git with y'all?"

"We have been on earth before, and she shares your same nasal proclivity. ‘Nosiness' was the term you used, I believe."

"Yep, sounds just like my Ethel. Always jawin' about walkin' the straight an' narry way, but skippin' down the wide path, herself."

"Shall we go, Mr. Wilson?"

"Reckon so. I did love Ethel. An' I miss her. She baked a pearl of a sweet tater dumplin'.

"Follow me, sir. Just down here, behind your barn. Watch your step on the ramp. It is slippery."

"Oh, Sonny, what about my hawgs an' chickens?"

"Do not worry, Mr. Wilson. We will see that they are well cared for."

"Good. I  like them hawgs. Remind me of Ethel. Lotsa spirit."

"After you, sir. Watch your head."

"I sure hope ya got a spittoon on board."
                                                                        


At sunrise, Roy Wilson's next-door neighbor found that his livestock had doubled in number over night.

 

About the Author
Wesley Lambert's prose and/or poetry has appeared in many online and print publications, such as: Paradox, Hadrosaur Tales, Scifaikuest, Astropoetica, Between Kisses, Flashshot, Flash Fantastic, Sidereality, Amazing Journeys, and many others, with fiction upcoming in KidVisions. He welcomes feedback at Email: Socialcons1@aol.com, or visit him at: AnimateMatters.blogspot.com.

- Back to Fiction for the Month of July