I wrote “Cops and Saucers” after shoveling fourteen inches of snow off my driveway one blustery winter day. The extreme exertion of heaving that much snow hither and yon caused tiny saucer-shaped black spots to dance in front of my eyes. I thought, what would I do if a “real” saucer suddenly flew past me and buried itself in a nearby snowbank? Would I believe my own eyes? Or would I concoct an elaborate explanation of some kind so that I would not have to tell my friends that I had actually seen an object from outer space? Children of all ages should enjoy this simple tale…

Panting like a long-distance runner, I finally finished shoveling all the heavy snow off my driveway. I was debating whether to spend money I really didn’t have on a snowblower when something zipped past my right ear and hovered scant inches from my face. The object was the size and shape of a dinner plate. It wobbled and fluttered and spun. Then it executed a crisp backward flip and burrowed into a mound of snow.

Although dazzled by what I’d just seen, I was too exhausted to deal with it. I dragged myself into the house and drew a hot bath. As I slipped gratefully into the steaming water, I considered a few possibilities. The thing might be a weird migratory bird driven to ground by bad weather. Or a technologically advanced Frisbee tossed at my head by a pesky neighbor kid. It could also be a transitory hallucination caused by my perilous oxygen debt.

I even allowed myself to ponder the absurd notion that it was a flying saucer piloted by aliens from outer space. This in spite of the fact that I’d told anyone who would listen that I wouldn’t believe flying saucers existed if one landed on my foot. Every person in my circle of friends and acquaintances knew that Edgar Schmidt did not believe in UFO’s.

But this particular flying object deserved a closer look. I dried off, bundled up, went back outside and eased it out of the snow. It made no attempt to fly away. I turned it this way and that. There were no windows or doors on its black metallic surface. It was thicker in the middle than on the edges. I took it inside and weighed it on my bathroom scale. Five pounds.

I carefully put what I now believed was a miniature flying saucer on my dining-room table and called my brother.

“Ron,” I said, “please come over and help me resolve a matter of extreme urgency.”

“Let me guess,” Ron said. “Your garbage disposal is clogged again.”

My older brother Ron is a career cop who always wanted to be an actor. Light bar flashing, he wheeled his squad car into my driveway and scrambled to the front door of my house with his pistol drawn.

“Police,” he bellowed. “Open up or I’ll shoot!”

I opened the door and said, “Ron, I’ve asked you repeatedly not to do that. What will my neighbors think?”

Ron stepped inside and holstered his weapon. “Your neighbors will think you’re a homicidal maniac and I’m a fearless defender of truth, justice and the American way.”

I ushered him into the dining room and pointed at the table. “I found this in a pile of snow next to my driveway.”

Ron clapped me on the shoulder and said, “Well, Edgar, I can tell you this much. It’s not your typical garbage disposal.”

“It’s difficult for me to even say these words,” I said. “It’s a flying saucer from outer space. Since you’re in law enforcement, it occurred to me that you might know which federal agency is responsible for protecting US citizens from extraterrestrials. I propose we call someone in Washington immediately and ask them to declare a state of emergency.”

“Before we do that, Edgar, why don’t you tell me exactly what happened.”

After I had explained everything, Ron said, “You’re right. This thing is probably from outer space. But I’m scheduled to go out on patrol now, Edgar. Let me think about this while I’m driving around. I’ll get back to you when my shift is over.”

“Sooner if possible,” I said. “This craft could suddenly power up and zoom back to the Mother Ship.”

“Take pictures,” Ron said, “in case that happens.”

After Ron left, I made a cup of tea and a tuna fish sandwich. I sat down at my dining-room table to eat and keep a watchful eye on the mysterious saucer.

Someone rang my doorbell.

Two men I had never seen before were standing on my front porch. One pointed a ray gun at my chest and said, “Let us in, Edgar.”

The other said, “Cooperate and we won’t hurt you.”

Moments later the three of us were seated around the dining-room table.

“Nice house,” said the man with the ray gun. He was tall and had pointy ears.

“You’ve come for the flying saucer,” I said.

The unarmed man smiled. He also had pointy ears.

“You’re extraterrestrials,” I said.

“Listen to me, Edgar,” said the unarmed man. “When your brother returns, tell him that two government officials came to your house moments after he left. Say that the saucer is part of a top-secret experimental national defense project. And that the officials made you sign a confidentiality agreement and said if you ever talk to anyone about this experience, you’ll be prosecuted as a traitor and spend the rest of your life in a federal prison.”

“Be sure to tell that story to your brother exactly as my partner told it to you,” the man with the ray gun said. He pulled a wrinkled grocery sack from his coat pocket and tossed it on the table.

The unarmed man got up and began to walk slowly through every room in my house. While he was doing that, the man with the ray gun ate my sandwich. When the unarmed man returned, he stood directly behind me, put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed. He asked if I understood my instructions.

I said, “Yes. Fortunately, my brother is a realist. He’ll accept your ridiculous story as fact because he thinks that only conspiracy nuts buy into the UFO fantasy.”

“Maybe,” said the man with the ray gun as he stuffed the saucer into the grocery sack. “But you pegged us as extraterrestrials the minute we walked in here, Edgar. And you’re not a conspiracy nut.”

When Ron came over later, I told him about the two visitors and how they had forced their way into my house at the point of a ray gun. “They made up a bogus story and said if I didn’t repeat it to you word for word, I’d regret it. They’re hostile humanoids from a distant planet. I’m probably going to need police protection for the rest of my life.”

Ron pulled two photographs from his shirt pocket and handed them to me.

“Why, yes, but how could you possibly know that?”

“We got a tip last week that they might be operating in our area. They’re burglars. They pick on people who live alone. They drop a remote-controlled saucer near a citizen, then show up shortly afterwards. They tell their victim that the saucer is part of a classified national defense project. Then they case the residence and either rob the poor sap or walk away because he owns nothing of value.”

“Egad,” I said.

“As soon as you showed me the saucer, I knew what was going down,” Ron said. “But I couldn’t say anything. If the burglars suspected you were working with the cops, it could have been curtains for you, Edgar.”

“But they knew our names. And they knew that you’d just been here and were coming back. How is that possible?”

“They’re clever. These two thugs have been operating this scam for a long time and have never been nabbed before today.”

“You arrested them?”

“Less than a mile from here,” Ron said. “They’re cooling their heels in the slammer right now.”

“Fantastic! Thank you, brother. From the bottom of my heart.”

When Ron stood up to go, I hugged him and blubbered a few sentimental words into his badge. He opened the front door and marched off. Ten seconds later the doorbell rang. Ron was back already.

He stepped inside and said, “Brace yourself, little brother. What I’m about to say is going to take your breath away. I set this whole thing up. Right down to the dudes with the pointy ears and the fake ray gun. And it worked. You admitted for the first time ever that flying saucers and aliens exist.”

I said, “I did not.”

“Yes, you did. You told me the saucer was from outer space and your two visitors were aliens. That’s a huge breakthrough, Edgar. Until today, you couldn’t admit that alien visitations were even possible. And we both know why. You were there when I was abducted. You were just a little kid then. The experience terrified you and absolute denial kept you from losing your marbles. But it also blocked you from admitting an important truth.”

“Okay, so your little drama was somewhat convincing,” I said. “But deep down I knew it was pure fiction.”

“You’re lying, Edgar. I built that saucer with my own two hands. It’s an exact replica of the real thing. The two guys with pointy ears are cop buddies from another jurisdiction. I told them this was a practical joke. They played their roles perfectly and you swallowed their story hook, line and sinker.”

“Let’s assume for a moment that I actually was that gullible. Tell me why you thought it was so important to change my attitude about the existence of extraterrestrials.”

“You have to figure that out for yourself,” said Ron. “And don’t stop figuring until you know why I did this today.”

I tossed and turned half the night trying to understand what Ron meant by his last remark. Early the next morning, I called my girlfriend, Margo.

“Drop whatever you’re doing and meet me at Ron’s house,” I said to her. “I need you to witness something.”

I asked Margo to go inside my brother’s house and look around.

“Don’t bother to ring the doorbell or knock,” I said. “Just walk in.”

“But why am I doing this and not you?” she asked.

“Please, Margo,” I said. “I’ll explain later.”

When Margo came back outside she said, “Ron’s not in there. His toothbrush and pajamas are on the floor in front of the bathroom sink. His uniform and hat and gun are in the closet in his bedroom. There’s coffee brewing in the kitchen and his car is in the garage. It’s spooky. What’s going on, Edgar?”

“Aliens from outer space abducted Ron this morning,” I said.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” she said. “You don’t believe that.”

“Yes, I do. And here’s something else I believe. Ron isn’t coming back this time.”

“This time?”

“They took him once before,” I said. “A long time ago. I saw them do it.”

“If this is your idea of a joke, Edgar, it isn’t funny,” Margo said. “It’s . . . it’s sick!” She jumped into her car, slammed the door and drove away.

The two guys who had impersonated aliens at my house arrived moments later in a dusty brown sedan. No pointy ears this time. They both got out of the car. The tall one handed me the ray gun and the saucer.

He said, “Souvenirs. Ron asked us to give them to you this morning.”

“What a great joke,” the other man said. “Really fun to do. But we’ve been asking ourselves why Ron was so intense about it. It seemed to us like he had a deadly serious reason for pulling this stunt on you, Edgar.”

I said, “You’re right. He wanted me to know that he was leaving Earth for good this time so I wouldn’t waste the rest of my life looking for him.”

Both men laughed. The tall one said, “That’s hilarious.”

The other one said, “Okay, so you’re not going to tell us your family secret. It’s none of our business, anyway. Ron said to be sure and let you know that he did this because he loves you.”

I said, “I wonder why he didn’t just send me a card.”

I drove home and hid the ray gun and saucer under my mattress. Then I called the owner of our local hardware store and asked him to have a new snowblower delivered to my house right away.

I said, “It pains me to admit this, Jake, but I’m getting too old to shovel snow.”

Jake said, “This is unbelievable. I’m going to circle this date on my calendar in red ink. Edgar Schmidt finally embraces reality. There must be pigs flying overhead right now.”

And that’s when I lost it. Hot tears streamed from my eyes and I was momentarily unable to speak. Eventually I managed to stammer, “Walk outside and look up at the sky, Jake. If those pigs are black and shaped like dinner plates, I suggest you call the person you love most and say goodbye.”

Copyright © 2007, Christopher E. Hoy