Your Point Is?

     We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you an important message from the office of the President of the United States of America. 

     Hardly a single head in Tequila Mockingbird, the high-class bar in a dead-end town, stirred an inch in response. The President had stopped mattering much to anyone in this area many moons ago. Across the country, there was a similar non-response wherever the TV programming could be interrupted. 

     Ladies and Gentlemen of this fine nation, I stand before you to bring groundbreaking information that may initially seem frightening. Still, I want to assure each and every one of you that your government has everything under control and has for many decades. 

     A few eyes cast a quick glance at the screen perched high above the multi-colored bottles of liquid distraction before looking away again, and the automated jukebox in the corner switched from playing Don’t Stop Believin’ to I Know You Want Me (Calle Ocho). Pammy sent the eight ball flying into the corner pocket, Greg missed his shot on the dartboard, Rhonda let out a belch at the end of her beer, and the President looked around as if he actually stood six feet above the bottles of Jack Daniels and Jim Beam and peered down at them all. 

     What I’m about to tell you will surely come as a shock, but we are all in this together, and I can confirm that there is nothing to fear. 

     A few eyes at the bar looked up and remained trained on the television this time. “Hey!” Bobby Burgner belted over his broad, dusty shoulder, “Pipe the hell down! I’m tryin’ to hear the news!” Several eyes turned their glare to Debra, who was apparently training to audition on both American Idol and Dancing With The Stars with her partner, the bar stool. It was a relief to everyone when she tripped over her partner’s two left feet and stopped singing in her version of Spanish. 

     The President gave a dramatic pause as if he knew the murmurs would start up, his knuckles white and bony and mottled with a mass of purple veins beating in rhythm to his eighty-eight-year-old heart that fallaciously believed he’d never be required to give this speech. His face was the oddest combination of sickly pale and girlish pink, and the patrons of Tequila Mockingbird began to take notice that something just wasn’t right. “What’d he say before? What are we not supposed to fear??”

      “I said, pipe the hell down! Don’t you understand English?”

       Behind the bar, Barry grabbed the remote to the highfalutin jukebox in the corner that took bank cards online instead of quarters from pockets. Silence descended upon them all, the President still hovering above them, their necks straining as their heads pushed back to watch and wait and stare at the sweat starting to run down to the jowls of this geriatric wonder telling them they were safe with him. They watched him inhale a long, shaky breath, his watery blue eyes taking on a steely determination, the blue tinge to his lips momentarily easing into a shade somewhere between gutted pig and overly zealous blush application. 

     It is a momentous time in our history as Americans, nay, as people from this great planet, when we can finally answer the question, ‘Are we alone in this vast universe?’. And the answer is a resounding no.

     There was a lengthy pause as every eye stared at the President, who had once again paused and stared into the camera with a doddering glance that appeared as if his eyes were following the people at home, a Mona Lisa trick that missed the mark. Then, in almost perfect unison, each patron of the Happy Hour crowd erupted into hysterical laughter.

     Bobby Burgner, resident of this town since he was a child who crash-landed with his parent’s tour group in the preacher’s backyard, was from the little planet hiding on the other side of Mars, never captured by the telescopes and probes, a beach resort for most of the galaxy who coveted their pearly sands and pristine waters. They’d had a great time getting to know each other as his parents were proselytizing the good word of The Prime, and Preacher Joe was determined to share the faith of American Christians from sea to shining sea and beyond. Soon, the entire town accepted the tour group, who shared the pews with them at Mulberry Methodist and the stands at every Friday night high school football game. 

     Now, I know what you might be thinking, but you need to understand that they have been here since the dawn of humankind. We have never been alone. They aren’t here to start an invasion; they are our caretakers. It turns out we’re pretty darn stupid as a species, and without them… well… humanity would have never even begun. We’re just a little too prone to violence and a little too resistant to progress.

     Everyone here knew it was true. They’d all been warned about their missionary work on this planet. Some came as scientists trying to undo the damage of this species. Some came as tourists who just really loved the culture. Others were family of diplomats who were employed here to continue to negotiate and guide the human race away from self-destruction so that brighter minds could continue to develop in the hopes that, one day, this Earth would be as great as any other developed planet in the tri-galaxy area. High-ranking officials could (and would) relocate their immediate family for their stay, which was often a life-long commitment and not to be taken lightly. Half of this town was from somewhere far, far away, and everyone knew it. The only way to keep a secret is to ensure only one person knows that secret; once you include a second person, word will get out sooner than later. 

     Barry flicked the remote towards the jukebox again, Pammy racked up the pool balls, Greg missed the target on the dartboard again, Rhonda ordered another beer, Bobby asked for salted nuts, and Debra dug into her nachos that had magically appeared when she wasn’t paying attention.

     No one was surprised that this groundbreaking information went by without notice or much commentary. Inflation was at an all-time high. Gas prices jacked up twenty-five cents per gallon overnight. School shopping started in earnest, and the stores had limited bulletproof backpacks. Alien or not, the nation had more significant concerns. As the President said – they’d always been here. Barry poured a drink, and the jukebox played Tubthumping.