Rusty Pails #8 The Sons of the Saucer

by Rocky Macy

The ladies of the Sprung Hinge Sewing Circle and Bucket Brigade are notorious around these parts for some of their wild escapades, but lately tongues have been wagging over another group of adventurers: the Sons of the Saucer.

I had just returned from a particularly rough day of sitting in the shade at an auction when Heck Frye and the gang came bouncing down the lane in his old pickup truck. They were heading down to the drive-in picture show to watch a vampire film festival, and it didn’t take much convincing to entice Baker and me on board. After all, sometimes a fella just needs to unwind!

The Beau Jacks Drive-In sits in a pasture only minutes from downtown Sprung Hinge. Not many people mind the dairy cows that graze between the cars, and most folks know to wear boots and watch their step when they go to the concession stand.

We pulled in moments before dusk looking somewhat like a parade float honoring the Great Depression. Heck and the Judge sat in the cab flanking Baker, while Shadetree Mike, Truman Treetopper, and Old Rusty held down lawn chairs in the back. Heck drove our spectacle-on-wheels right up to the front row as a courtesy to Truman because he thinks he can hear better if he is closer to the screen.

But Truman can’t hear, even up close to the screen, so it wasn’t long before he turned his chair around and began perusing the cars further back with his opry glasses. Just as I had finished with my second or third root beer, Truman began tugging at my arm in an agitated state.

That’s when I saw it: out there, beyond the last row of cars, hovered an honest-to-goodness, lights-a-flashing, flying saucer! As I stared at the big chrome dinner plate, the thought struck me that the extra-terrestrial visitors were likely fans of B-grade movies.

And then the noise began! Truman took his cane and commenced to beating on the roof of the cab to alert Heck and the Judge. Baker, a dedicated fan of vampire films, joined the ruckus with a low growl as protest to Truman’s unwelcome drumming. Heck and the Judge poured out of the pickup expecting to find somebody in flames. They got a bigger surprise!

There we stood – four fools at a drive-in – staring off in the wrong direction. Before we could get anyone else’s attention, a Bovine Bessie stepped up to the truck door that Heck had left open and helped herself to his popcorn.

That was all Baker could stand! She set up a howl that folks heard back in town, and the frightened cow began running through the parked cars bellowing like she had just been branded. By that time horns were honking and people were yelling at everybody – but mostly at us!

The flying saucer kicked into warp-double-overdrive and disappeared at the height of this pandemonium, and I’ve heard from others that a couple of vampire bats flew off the screen and went hightailing it back to Hollywood.

And the worst part is that nobody believes us. Most folks blame it on the root beer, but me and my buddies know what we saw. Leastways, I think we do!