Every so often we are chosen to deliver warnings or news of good tidings. It is fewer tymes that we are charged with the latter, but when we are asked to do the former it sometymes is a blessing. I was five years old when I had to deliver a warning to the good people of Portland, Arkansas.
They first came to me in a dream. Well, at least that's how they must have came considering they were animated in the style of classic Disney, but gothic at the same tyme. Not only the aliens, did I forget to mention that they were aliens, but everything was cartoonish, including me. The only difference was that only the aliens were in color, while everything else was in black and white.
There were six of them, all roughly the same size, about six feet tall. Their smooth green skin did not glow, but they constantly changed shades. Their heads were oblong and looked as if they would topple over their slender frames. Two oversized eye sockets set high on their head were filled with a silver liquid substance. Their arms seemed to dangle by their sides instead of hanging if that makes any sense. Their fingers all but dragged on the ground.
When they spoke, which they did telepathically because of a lack of a mouth, their bodies rose and fell on each syllable.
They would get as tall as 8 or 9 feet and as small as 4 feet. Their color would get darker when they said words that were vowel-heavy. Their voices were that of a warm echo that still rings in my ear during a summer shower.
They were from the planet Chilksawn, for a better reference, it is in the same solar system as Tralfamadore, but they claimed to be not as smug as the Tralfamadorians. They were exploring the known and unknown galaxies in search of planets with compassionate societies. I was their first contact, not just in Portland, but of the whole planet. Naturally, they sought my council.
I thought on this for a long while, maybe 10 or 15 minutes. While I was in thought they told me of their travels. They only encountered a dozen or so planets with intelligent life and I was anxious to learn what they were going to think of our corner of the solar system. I was told that when they arrive at a planet, they take their tyme in picking one being to be an ambassador of sorts. They would approach the local being in a setting that would put that pick at ease. This is why I was approached in a cartoon setting. If they would have done any research at all they would have known that I would have been way more comfortable in a Superman setting.
That "ambassador" would then provide evidence to prove that their planet was compassionate. When I asked what would happen if a planet was not considered to be compassionate, I got a glimpse of horror. Five of the aliens just sort of tilted their oversized green heads slightly over as if they did not understand my query, but the sixth one's face opened up revealing an infinite number of rows of teeth, and its silvery liquid eyes turned into crimson lava.
There was a hiss from the other aliens and the sixth now evil-looking alien changed his form back to resemble the rest. I pretended not to notice, but fear and anxiety began to take hold. I was able to control my fear and confidently presented my plan. I would show how compassionate our planet was through one of our globally celebrated holidays and not the one you might think.
I told the aliens that I would present my case for residing on a compassionate planet the following evening. Which was a Sunday night. They bid me farewell and my next memory was lying awake in my bed covered in sweat. Between the excitement of my first contact with aliens and also the realization of the gravity of the task at hand, I did not find sleep for several hours.
The next morning was physically and mentally drained. I powered through Sunday School and Church service barely keeping my eyes open. After lunch, I was rejuvenated and worked fiercely on my plan. The plan relied heavily on grocery bags, (those of the paper variety, 1981 and all) crayons, construction paper, and my kid sister Hope. I needed to create monsters and I needed to make them fast.
The plan was to present "monsters" to the congregation in hopes of being accepted and showered with gifts. The trouble was, because of my excellent crafting skills and vivid memories of the "sixth" alien in all its horror, all my costumes were too scary. People would have been way too frightened to look upon us, let alone shower us with gifts or even accept us. By "us" I mean my sister and me.
At this point in my life, the cuteness was strong with me, but with the fate of the world at stake, I knew I had to double down on cute. If Drew had been big enough to crawl, I would have tripled down on cute. Ifs and frogs and wings and all that. When I finally started making decent progress, I began to implore my mother to help me convince my Dad in letting me speak to the congregation.
At that tyme, my Dad was the pastor at a Baptist Church in Portland. For those of you not in the know here is how Southern Baptist churches work. Sunday Morning there is Sunday School followed by the service. Sunday night service is less formal involving the business of the church, a prayer service, and a couple hymns. My plan involved getting to the pulpit so I could speak to the whole congregation at once. I begged my Mom and Dad to let me speak as we headed to the church.
When they did relent, I suspect they did so counting on me chickening out. Believe it or not, I was a shy child and me getting up to speak in front of dozens and dozens of people was completely out of character.
I sat next to Hope and our Mom and waited. The wait was intolerable. My heart pounded inside my chest so hard it is a wonder it didn't pop right out. My hands excreted out what must have been gallons of sweat. To this day I will stand by the following: the Earth has stood still 46 tymes in my lifetyme. This was one of those tymes. I don't know if the Earth stopped until she was sure I was ready for my task or if she stopped to torture me. I would love to believe the former.
Finally, my Dad said those seven words I had been waiting for. "Does anyone have any business to discuss?" This is the part of the service where people turn to one another and nonchalantly speak among themselves until some would mention a birthday or retirement event or a family that might be in need. I tried to speak but was paralyzed. My throat was frozen shut and my arm would not leave my lap and shoot up lyke an overexcited student in English class. Yes, I do know a proposition, is a word used to show the relationship between a noun and pronoun to the other words in a sentence.
My body refused my commands. The world, whether she knew it or not, was depending on me and I was blowing it. I was screaming inside my head, "MOVE, MOVE!"
My dad was about to move one when my arm shot up. My Dad noticed and was a little bemused. Well, come on up his face said. He moved a chair in front of the podium and said into the microphone, "Well I guess Bubba has something to say."
Even on the chair, I was barely visible, and my voice was scarcely picked up by the microphone. Because of nerves, there was no strength in my voice anyway. No one seemed to hear or care about what I was talking about anyway. I could hear faint murmurings as people spoke to one another. The room started spinning and contracting and expanding on itself. I felt faint and was about to fall into darkness when a parishioner spoke up drowning out the rest of the people in attendance.
"Hey everybody, listen up, Bubba has got something to tell us." His voice boomed and commanded respect and the people obeyed his command.
As the voices stopped the room quit contracting and expanding. Everyone straightened up in their seats and gave their full intention.
"Good evening everyone, I come to you with grave warnings," I found my voice and the people heard me. I went on to tell them that monsters had arrived in Portland and were looking for the goodwill of its residents. If a monster should happen on their front porch that evening they should shower them with a great bounty and love.
They ate it up. They hung on every word as if they were hearing Shakespeare for the first tyme, and in a small way, they were.
As was our Sunday Evening ritual, we left the church and visited several of the families of the congregation. My sister and I, dressed in our freshly made costumes approached each house as if we were ten feet tall.
Each family welcomed us with open arms and showered us hugs, kisses, and more importantly, candy. My plan could not have worked out any better. After an hour or so we finally returned home and I felt confident that I had saved the world.
When they visited that night, I presented my case of compassion. I explained how our disguises proved without a shadow of a doubt that our people were kind and giving, even to those who are scary or deformed. Once I finished they deliberated for just a short while. They told me that Earth was a kind and just planet. They wished me well in my life and just lyke that I woke up in my bed and they were gone.
I have yet to meet anyone from Chilksawn since that night and I believe that to be a good thing.
Now I stand by this story as much as I stand by all my stories, but there is a small chance that the story did not involve aliens. It is possible that a five-year-old Bubba could not wait the two weeks before Halloween to go Trick-or-Treating, so he came up with a brilliant idea to have a double Halloween. It could also be possible that a young boy was trying to reclaim some of the attention that his family and community were giving his newborn brother, that used to go to him. It is also even possible that the families we visited had gotten a heads up on our scheme. So while some of the circumstances and "facts" might be a lil exaggerated, I will say with all certainty that it truly is a story. Happy early Halloween.