May 26, 2017.
In a brittle issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction from November 1952, I stumbled across a short story entitled “Bem” by sci-fi author Charles T. Webb. His story so amused me that I decided to write my own using “Bem” as one inspiration and the 1897 UFO crash in Aurora, Texas as another. And without my knowing it, my prose fell into rhythm with rhymes and near rhymes, and to my amazement, I had the first two stanzas of a poem.
Any fans of sci-writer Henry Kuttner will see that I also took inspiration from his Galloway Gallagher story entitled “The World Is Mine” first published in Astounding Stories in June 1943 under the pseudonym Lewis Padgett.
The Thang: A Sci-fi Lullaby by Kent Gutschke
for my dog, Rusty
As the funny-shaped thang zips into view,
Ziggin’ and zaggin’ past Bill’s Greasy Spoon,
Earl roosts on his porch near his old, brown dog,
Sippin’ corn likker, his brain in a fog.
Earl and his dog watch with nary a scare,
As the silvery thang – spinnin’ in air,
Smashes his windmill and falters in flight,
Quietly flutters and softly alights.
Earl bolts from his perch a-howlin’ with glee:
“Off yer butt, Rusty! Let’s grab a look-see!”
A crashed UFO? Earl reckons on fun,
Grabs his corn likker and loaded shotgun.
But the funny-shaped thang murmurs and drones,
Sendin’ a chill to the core of their bones,
Then outta the ship, an alien whines,
“On your knees, Earthmen! The world is now mine!”
Then a mess of eyes and pulsatin’ arms
Plops outta the ship and storms through the corn!
Earl comically eyes this “bigheaded thang”
And pities the star from which it has sprang.
“Fools!” it shrieks, “My keen teeth you’ll not defy!
You and your mongrel make ready to die!”
A-laughin’ Earl says, “Ya ain’t foolin’ me!
Yer teeth are fer cud not chewin’ on meat!”
The bug-eyed varmint then whimpers and whines:
“Are you telling me this world isn’t mine?”
Earl ponders its trip ‘cross space and through time,
And offers the drip a drop of moonshine.
The creep takes a slug; its mind starts to spin;
Wily Earl leans in and boasts with a grin,
“We’ve government men who circle the globe,
Who’ll fix yer rear to the end of a probe!”
The bug-eyed critter then jitters and chokes:
“A prick from a probe? That isn’t a joke!”
So droppin’ the jug, it stomps through the corn,
And shinnies its ship with rubbery arms.
So the silvery ship takes to the sky,
Silently soarin’ except for a sigh,
Leavin’ Earl musin’ on wisdom homespun—
“Likker kicks harder than loaded shotguns.”
©2017 Kent Gutschke. All rights reserved.
MARTIAN DEATH RAY 