"The Great Hollywood Invasion" - Part Two

Part Two

            Returning to the future Extraterrestrial Highway to follow on their lead in investigating the mysterious disappearance of Bobby Wright, Tiffany and Starla relied on Tiffany’s sonic screwdriver to work as a detector — scanning for nuage energy. Their signal detection brought them to a farm on the edge of town. Near the farmland were heavy traces of nuage energy.

            “And…what does that mean?” Starla was getting used to asking that, being around Tiffany for as long as she had been.

            “It means, luv, that whatever took dear Bobby Wright was not from this reality,” Tiffany disclosed.

            “He was taken by the rift?”

            “He was taken by something that came out of the rift.”

            “What’s a rift?” A little curious voice asked, all of the sudden. Starla and Tiffany looked to each other, both knowing neither of them asked the question. They then looked down and, to their surprise, there stood a little 8-year-old African-American boy in overalls and a newsboy cap; he seemed to have been big on news, with an oversized newspaper bag slumped around his tiny frame.

            He was absolutely adorable in the eyes of Starla and Tiffany, the former of whom knelt down to his level and sweetly said to him, “It’s kinda like an invisible hole into another dimension…like The Twilight Zone.”

            The little boy frowned. “What’s The Twilight Zone?”

            “A TV show about stories in other dimensions?” Starla said knowingly.

            The little boy shrugged.

            Starla fleetingly glimpsed at the nearby farmhouse from where she presumed the boy to have emerged. “You don’t watch a lot of television, lil’ dude?”

            “Is you a weirdo or somethin’?!” the little boy asked her. “What the blazes is ‘television’?!?!”

            Confused, Starla felt Tiffany’s hand come down on her shoulder. “You’re eight years early, luv,” the Tinkerer told her with a giggle. She then focused on the little boy and inquired, “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Starla noticed how Tiffany didn’t hide her English accent around the kid.

            “Folks call me ‘Scoop’,” the boy said proudly. “Is y’all lookin’ for Bobby Wright? It was them aliens that took him.”

            “Aliens?!” Tiffany and Starla bellowed in sync.

            “What else did you see, honey?” Starla asked him.

            Scoop pointed directly to the spot along the side of the road where Tiffany picked up on the heavy traces of nuage energy earlier. “He gots plucked right up likes a daisy right there — gots pulled right into the UFO by a tractor!”

            “You mean a tractor beam?” Tiffany elaborated, and Scoop nodded.

            “It was the same UFO that’s been stealin’ my Paw-Paw’s cows,” Scoop added.

            “Have you told anyone else about this UFO, Scoop?” Tiffany asked.

            “I tolds the cops…they laughed at me.”

            “No, they didn’t!” Starla was visibly disgusted to hear this. “That’s a horrible thing to do to a little boy!” She couldn’t help but to give Scoop a hug. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

            “Me, too, luv,” Tiffany supported. “They shouldn’t have done that.”

            Scoop didn’t let it faze him; instead, he moved on to ask them, “Are y’all reporters? I wants to be a reporter when I grows up. Reporters don’t gets laughed at or laughs at anybody. Y’all didn’t laughs at me.”

            “Because we believe every word of what you say, baby,” Starla said. “And you’re right — we are reporters. You’ve got good intuition to spot that.”

            “You also have a very attentive eye, luv,” Tiffany told Scoop.

            Scoop scratched his head through his newsboy cap. “What does ‘assentive’ mean?”

            “Attentive means that you saw the UFO take Bobby Wright — something no one else has seen,” Tiff explained.

            Scoop beamed at this. “I also seens where it lands! It lands in one spot in the desert, every midnight! If y’all want, y’all can stays at my house and watch it with me!”

            Tiffany and Starla both gave consenting nods and smiles.

            “Sounds like a deal,” Starla told Scoop. “And, to make it even sweeter, we’re gonna make you our honorary cub reporter.”

            Scoop’s eyes twinkled at this esteemed prospect.

— — — — — — — — —

            Tiffany and Starla were treated to a whole pleasant afternoon in the cozy farmhouse where Scoop lived. They ate the most amazing apple pie with some nice cool milk to wash it down. For Aznavorian, it reminded them of the years they lived on the Georgia farm as their original incarnation — Steven Curtsinger — with their wife, Kristin, and their daughter, Candace.

            As much fun as it was being there, Starla couldn’t ignore one concern she had, especially as sundown approached. “Scoop, where are your mama and daddy? You don’t live alone, do you?”

            After taking a long gulp of his milk, Scoop answered, “I don’t gots a mama and daddy — just my Paw-Paw and Granny.”

            “And where are they?” Starla asked.

            Scoop hesitated to answer for a long moment. “Cans I tell y’all a secret?” he finally said. Once Starla and Tiffany gave their permission, he continued, “My Paw-Paw and Granny were taken by the UFO.”

            Tiffany and Starla stiffened in shock over this news.

            “Sweetheart, when did this happen?” Tiff asked.

            “Last week,” Scoop said.

            Starla felt like crying. “And you’ve been here by yourself the whole time?!” Scoop gave her a sad, timid nod — his head shamefully hung low. “Why didn’t you tell anyone about it?”

            “He did,” Tiffany told her. “Remember the laughing cops?”

            The apple pie sitting in Starla’s stomach dared to come back up, hearing all of these revolting details. She felt sad for poor Scoop, angry towards the discouraging police, and determined to do the right thing. Fighting back tears, she took the little boy into her arms and told him, “We’ll get your grandparents back, lil’ dude…I promise.”

            Tiffany joined them in the hug, sharing her young companion’s resolve.

            Their combined warmth helped Scoop to feel an overwhelming wave of relief that his little body deserved after seven whole days alone in that cozy (albeit empty) farmhouse.

— — — — — — — — —

            At last, midnight had arrived…but the UFO did not.

            Tiffany and Starla managed to keep themselves awake with cup-after-cup of coffee. Scoop was merely driven by his own natural child energy, plus the excitement of seeing the alien spaceship again. And yet, somehow, he did see it, pointing out the window to the spot where Bobby Wright was abducted and shouting repeatedly, “There it is!”

            Starla and Tiffany looked out the window with him but only saw a dark, vacant desert. “Scoop, I’m sorry, bud…I don’t see anything,” Starla reluctantly admitted.

            “But it’s rights there, I tells ya,” Scoop grumbled. “It’s plains as days!”

            Tiffany reached into her suit jacket and retrieved a pair of eyeglasses that were pocketed away. They weren’t just any normal specs — they were her own brand of sonic glasses, functioning the same way her sonic screwdriver would. Putting them on, she was amused to finally see the UFO. “Now that is wicked,” she uttered in awe.

            “What is?” Starla turned to her. “And what’s up with the glasses?”

            “Sonic specs,” Tiffany clarified, removing them for Starla to try on. “Enables you to see through objects camouflaged by nuage.”

            Sure enough, Starla finally saw the UFO once she put on the specs.

            “Whoa,” she chuckled. “It’s really there!” She removed the specs, leaving her naked eyes to see the ‘empty’ space again, and handed them back to Tiffany. “But, one thing I don’t get is how lil’ Scoop here can see it without those glasses?”

            “I suppose his little brainwaves are in tune with the nuage’s energy waves,” Tiffany gathered, arms crossed. “It’s been known to happen — every now and then — to certain beings who’ve never once left their reality.”

            Starla scoffed. “It amazes me how you can say all that and still make sense to it.”

            Tiffany gave her an excited grin. “I am greatly tempted to see what’s inside that UFO.”

            “Me, too,” Starla concurred.

            “Me three!” Scoop cheered.

            They were already at the front door. Tiffany had it opened, only to close it immediately when a squad car pulled up to the farmhouse, its headlights briefly catching them. “Welp, that puts a wrench in the gears,” she nervously regarded the situation.

            “What do they want?!” Starla griped.

            “They’s probably comes to check up on me,” Scoop inferred. “They’s the same cops I tolds ‘bout the UFO.”

            Starla’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, they are.” She then boldly instructed her two friends, “You two go on ahead. I wanna have a word with the laughing hyenas behind those badges.” Tiffany could see the anger-fueled anxiousness in her face and decided to leave her young companion to it, sneaking out the back screen door with Scoop.

            Two middle-aged Caucasian officers — one tall, the other short with a mustache — stepped out of the squad car. Of course, Starla mentally reflected in disgust. “Evenin’, officers,” she greeted them with her best put-on, southern-accented innocence. “What seems to be the trouble?”

            “Evenin’, young lady,” said the tall officer as he adjusted the waistline of his uniformed pants. He considered Starla’s presence there. “Any reason for you being here?”

            Starla didn’t think how off-putting it looked — a white girl coming out of a farmhouse owned by black people in a segregated era. “My car broke down several miles from here, and I had no other choice but to check with the nice people of this farm for a phone…to let my folks know I’m alright,” she fibbed on the spot.

            The tall officer scowled in suspicion. “Uh-huh. You do know the people who own this farm are coloreds, right?”

            Starla winced at the outdated term. “Yessir,” she confirmed. “It was a bit of a shock, to say the least, but they seemed like nice folk to me.”

            “Oh, they are,” the mustached officer spoke up for the first time. “But, uh, their grandson is something of a handful. Talks of UFOs and little green men and all that nonsense.” He and the tall officer began to snicker.

            Starla wanted to slap the smugness off both their faces. The only thing that restrained her was seeing Tiffany and Scoop rushing up to the invisible UFO, a short distance away, and vanishing from sight thereafter. “That does sound like quite the tall tale,” she told the officers, mimicking their amusement.

            The officers’ demeanor suddenly shifted back to sincerity. “You wouldn’t happen to have been at Jerry’s Diner this morning, would you, young lady?” the tall officer inquired. “We received a tip about a colored woman and a young white girl in a polka dot dress — a lot like the one you’re wearing. Both claiming to be reporters, asking around about Bobby Wright and his disappearance.”

            Starla bit her tongue. Someone at the diner was trying to rat them out just for helping. The only plausible individual she could figure on doing such a thing was Betty Weaver, out of fear.

            “No, sir,” she fibbed again. “I didn’t even know there was a diner near here. Like I said, my car had…”

            “…broken down,” the tall officer finished her statement. “Yes, you did say that.”

            “And, as y’all can see, I’m not here with any colored woman reporter,” Starla indicated with a titter. “Why, I didn’t even know such a thing existed in these parts.”

            “They don’t,” the mustached officer noted. “According to our tip, this one claimed to be from Carson City — there aren’t even any colored male reporters there, last I checked.”

            “I see,” Starla uttered. “That is disconcerting.”

            “Do you need a tow for your vehicle, young miss?” the tall officer asked.

            “My vehicle?” Starla nearly lost track of her own narrative. “Oh! Yes, my vehicle. No, sir. My pa will take care of that. He’s a mechanic.”

            The officers both nodded. “Well, you have a good evening, miss,” the mustached officer told her.

            Starla was relieved to see them leave in their squad car, being unable to carry the conversation on any longer. If she had to hear the words ‘colored’ or ‘negro’ for another minute, she was going to flip out; she felt the urge to wash her mouth out for even uttering the former of those terms. As soon as the squad car was far enough away, she made a beeline for the UFO.

— — — — — — — —

            “Golly-lee! This sho’ is amazin’!” Scoop’s eyes twinkled from all the high-end alien tech inside the UFO. It was understandably a dream come true for a little boy from the early 1950s — a time in which space exploration was still considered science fiction rather than science fact.

            Tiffany, by contrast, was very cautious the entire time. “It is quite impressive, luv, but stay close to me, yeah?” She kept a protective hand on Scoop’s shoulder as they traversed the many corridors inside the alien ship.

            “Do ya really thinks we’ll find Bobby Wright somewheres in here?” Scoop asked her.

            “I hope so, sweetheart,” Tiffany said.

            Scoop’s enthusiasm suddenly dwindled. “I hope we finds Paw-Paw and Granny, too.”

            Tiffany noticed the tears that started to stream from his little eyes. “Hey now,” she softly said, crouching down to look him in the eyes. “Let’s have a little hope, eh? I’ve never let friends like you down, and I don’t plan on startin’ anytime soon.”

            Scoop cleansed his face with his right sleeve. “We’s friends?”

            “Of course, luv.”

            “Friends tells the truth, ain’t that right?”

            “Correct.”

            “Then tells me the truth…cans I’s be a reporter likes you one day? Paw-Paw’s always tellin’ me that negroes can’t bees reporters, ‘cause none of us cans reads or writes.”

            This heartbreaking assumption made Tiffany sigh. “Lemme ask you this, Scoop: can you read or write?”

            “Justs a little,” Scoop said.

            “Well, I say you’re gonna prove your Paw-Paw wrong. ‘Cause as long as you can read and write, I think you’ll make one of the greatest reporters ever one day. Just promise me one thing, yeah?”

            “Sure. Whatchu want?”

            “Don’t say ‘negroes’ again, please?”

            Scoop frowned. “Why? It’s whats we are, ain’t it?”

            “We are many things, Scoop…but that dreadful word isn’t one of them. Just promise me you’ll never say it again, yeah?”

            Scoop could see how sorrowful it made her, and he didn’t want to make the first friend he ever had feel bad in any way. “I promises, Miss Tiffany. You’s never hears me say ‘negroes’ ever again.” His hand quickly slapped over his mouth, realizing his mistake. “Oops! O.K. You’s never hears me say it after that.”

            Tiff exploded with laughter, giving her new friend a hug.

            It was after that moment when they heard approaching footsteps.

            They both tensed up, believing it to be the UFO’s pilot.

            Thankfully, it was just an irate Starla. “That is the last time I ever talk to anyone with a badge in this time and place,” she bellowed.

            Tiffany shushed her as she approached. “Keep it down, luv.”

            “Sorry,” Starla complied in a hushed tone. “It’s just that…” She proceeded to cover Scoop’s ears as she ranted on. “I am so sick of these freaking Derek Chauvinistic po-po pieces of poo-poo! They’re all the same, whether it’s in 1951 or 2025!” In her ranting, she accidentally removed one of her hands from Scoop’s ear, prompting Scoop to cover it for himself.

            “Don’t let it get under your skin, luv,” Tiffany calmly encouraged her.

            Starla scoffed. “It’s not what’s under the skin that’s the problem with dusty old white guys like that.”

            “HEY! IS SOMEONE THERE?!?!” a distraught voice suddenly cried.

            “Who’s that?” Starla frowned.

            “Must be Bobby,” Tiffany presumed.

            Bobby’s continuous cries for help led them into a room where Bobby Wright was shackled to a bolted steel chair. “Oh, thank heavens,” he whimpered, his face drenched in sweat and tears. “Please, get me out of here before he comes back!”

            “He who?” Starla inquired.

            “Greetings, earthlings!” Tiffany, Starla, and Scoop turned once they heard the friendly salutation come directly from behind them. They were all surprised to see a Roswell-type alien with big, black oval-shaped eyes — clad in a loud Hawaiian shirt and a pair of slacks — waving at them with a smile.

            “Finally! More to watch my audition!”