LITMIR.BIZ

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brown dog sat at her feet, its pink tongue lolling out. The ship’s band of lights reflected on their faces, glowing and warm. They were so happpppppy about their friends from Jupiter!

      On the back of the pamphlet was the return address:

      New World Enterprises

      F

      41000 Lexus Lane

      Wilmington, Delaware 19880

      “Of course it’s Delaware-based,” Cynthia noted. “Even flying saucers want a good tax deal.”

      There was also an 800 number—that was a relief. He’d give it a call first thing tomorrow. Also on the back: the fine print of the sweepstakes rules. Ernest scanned them, but his eyes kept coming back to one of the lines in bold: “Any member of the household, age 16 or older, can register to win.”

      “Here’s my big question: How did this thing get here?” Ernest watched Gabe stare down at the table, barely suppressing a smile. “Hmm,” Ernest pondered. “There are four members of this family, but only three meet the requirements for enrolling in this sweepstakes. Let’s go ahead and go around the room. Cynthia, did you enter a contest to have an alien spaceship land in our backyard?”

      “No, I didn’t. Let me ask you, Ernest: Did you enter a contest to win a visit from aliens?”

      “I’m glad you asked, but no, I didn’t either. Well, well, who does that leave?”

      They waited for Gabe to say something while Alison enjoyed the show. Finally Ernest couldn’t wait anymore, staring at the name of his son, Gabriel Allen, printed on the envelope.

      He exploded: “What were you thinking?”

      “I don’t know,” Gabe said, his face pitching between thrill and feigned guilt. “Nothing ever happens around here!”

      “Something’s happening now,” Ernest said. “We’re really angry with you, that’s what’s happening.”

      “Sorry, but”—and here’s where Gabe gave up on pretending he felt bad—“I hope it stays forever.”

      “No, Gabe,” Ernest said. “You do not wish that. Wish that it leaves early and peacefully instead.”

      “What do you think it’s going to do, start a war? How can you guys not see how amazing this is? There’s a friggin’ spaceship back there—from Jupiter!”

      “We should go back out there,” Alison said, “instead of talking about it all night in the kitchen.”

      Ernest ignored her. “We’re environmentalists, Gabe. This thing isn’t right. We have no idea what kind of footprint it’s leaving behind, not to mention what it’s going to do to us.”

      “This is part of the environment too. It’s from our galaxy!”

      “Part of our environment like polluted rivers and landfills?

      “These are neighbors from our solar system,” Gabe said, “not piles of trash!”

      “For starters, it’s probably going to kill the lawn.”

      “The grass? Is that your big worry? The grass dies every winter.”

      Ernest was pacing now. “What if it does something worse? What if it’s toxic?”

      “Why would they be allowed here if they were toxic, Dad?”

      “You think this country tells us everything? You don’t think mistakes are made in the name of progress? There’s toxic shit all over the place!”

      “All right, everybody.” Cynthia held up her hands. “Why don’t we all sit down at the table and read the pamphlet together?”

      Once they were all seated, the green lights from the spaceship flared up and bathed them in a sickening glow.

      “Jesus, is this going to happen every time we sit here now?” Ernest asked.

      “Does that mean they’re looking at us?” Alison asked. “I am so creeped out right now.”

      Cynthia yanked down the shade that was rarely used. She started to read aloud: “In 1969, NASA made an advance previously imagined only in science fiction. It discovered another life-form on planet Jupiter and, through extensive development and research, made contact. Carefully, and in cooperation with the United Nations, NASA led a top secret communications effort to foster a healthy relationship with the residents of the fifth planet from the sun.”

      Cynthia continued reading, despite the distracting green light soaking in through the shade: “The unique relationship between Earth and Jupiter is built on close communication. After the discovery was made public to the citizens of Earth, the U.S. government established a visiting program in 1984 in which the inhabitants of Jupiter landed at the homes of select Americans. New World Enterprises took over the program in 1986, expanding visitation opportunities for ordinary Americans. In exchange for observing your way of life from a pleasant but close vantage point, you will have the amazing opportunity to host another life-form.”

      “They always have to make it sound so creepy. ‘Host another life-form’?” Alison wrapped her arms around herself. “That sounds like a horror movie.”

      “Don’t be so melodramatic.” Cynthia flipped ahead, searching for information about the saucer they hadn’t already heard a hundred times before. “Hold on, this part is in bold: ‘Do not try to force or lure them out. Do not damage their home, tamper with any equipment, or, in any way, create a hostile environment. Any damage to the spaceship could put the occupants in danger, and possibly the host family. It’s also imperative that if the aliens do come out—and this particular event cannot be guaranteed—that you keep a respectful distance. Do not attempt to agitate the aliens. For entertainment purposes only’” Cynthia snorted.

      Ernest shook his head ruefully. “You know, thinking of this from their position, I don’t see how they could possibly trust ordinary Americans not to do something stupid to the spaceships. I know everyone’s used to them by now, but how can they be so sure no one will attack them? Everyone just accepts aliens from outer space with open arms?”

      “Maybe something really bad happens if you attack the spaceships,” Alison said. “I wouldn’t want to mess with them.”

      Cynthia steered the conversation back. “Besides what this pamphlet says, what else do we know about spaceships?”

      “I remember reading an article where they come out,” Gabe said.

      Cynthia and Ernest exchanged an exasperated but pitying look.

      “For the last time, they don’t do that, Gabe,” Ernest said. “No one’s ever seen them.”

      “No, they did! It was some rich family in New York who paid for them to land, but they couldn’t get pictures or videos because the aliens hate that.”

      “You read that in one of those trashy tabloids,” Cynthia said. “There’s never been a credible report of the aliens coming out, and there’ve been thousands of visits now.”

      “That’s what’s so suspicious about these things,” Ernest said. “I haven’t read a serious news story about them in a while, not since the first couple of years when the visits were new. You two don’t realize this, but there was real pandemonium at first. I have to admit that Reagan did a pretty good job handling that one.”

      During that momentous press conference announcing the existence of alien life—one which Ernest and Cynthia watched anxiously, convinced it was the dreaded beginning of nuclear conflict with the USSR—the Skipper spread his lips into that famous cowboy smile of his and said, “I give you my solemn oath, we share values with these beings—the values of liberty, prosperity, and peace.”

      During the first months, when spaceships were sighted only rarely as they skimmed the air on official ambassadorial missions, the general public screamed, prayed, and quite frequently

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