Lubbock, Texas / The 1950s

“Farmer” Joe Caperton

One night, in 1952, Buddy and Ada Brill landed their spacecraft in an open field on the pasture of the Triple XXX farm, near Lubbock, Texas. In the 50s, XXX didn’t signify anything more than a cattle brand or perhaps shorthand for moonshine.

Only a handful of humans had ever witnessed one of Buddy and Ada Brill’s alien invasions. However, only one of them was jackass enough to have opened fire upon their super-cool spacecraft with a Remington shotgun.

Of course, the clown did get his ass drilled in the process, but only because the two reddening, pissed-off space critters needed to cover up the true purpose of their visit to Lubbock, Texas—the propagation of Rock n’ Roll.

Buddy and Ada were normally nonviolent and had previously attacked only one Earthling, a music executive who criticized their music by saying, “What the hell is this jungle crap?”

“Farmer” Joe Caperton, on the other hand, was a simple math teacher at Lubbock High School.

One starlit summer night, after being a husband to a sheep, Joe pulled his Hudson over to the side of the road so that he could get a better view of the “suspicious mechanical thang” that was the size of his barn, sitting in the middle of his family’s forty acres. The “thang” looked, and lit up like a giant rooster-red juke box.

Joe didn’t bother to investigate. He just went with his basic redneck instinct to goddamn shoot something.

Buddy, the lyrical alien, plucked Farmer Joe off the field with his new ACME “alien sized” Auto-Suc vacuum tube, and dropped the old man inside the Brill spacecraft. The normally calm, hard working Buddy cried out, “Look what Colonel Cluck did to my cool Wax job, Ada! I mean… the fuck!”

Buddy left it up to his cranky musical partner, Ada, to administer the standard universal alien anal probe upon Farmer Joe. It was Ada’s idea to use the farmer’s own ACME rototiller (a huge tool on wheels that the two aliens would become very fond of).

She told the bumpkin that in the Universal Intergalactic Guide Book for Idiots the “anal probe” was listed as “A standard mechanism used to help nourish skinny Earthlings, who should eat more.”

“What are you going to do with mah tiller, you crazy Mahjong?”

Ada’s eyes narrowed. “Hey! First of all we are NOT Mahjongs or Martians and Don’t get hacked off at us, plowboy! You started this clambake. We came from two hundred light years away to bring gifts to your big Palookaville-of-a-planet, and what do you clodhoppers do to show your appreciation? I’ll tell you, Manure Breath. You plug our newly painted space ship full of holes! What the— what were you thinking?” Ada just could not help adding while poking, “Nobody fucks with Buddy’s candy-apple-red Earl Scheib paint job! You cow pies cannot mess with our wheels!”

Buddy shoved Farmer Joe against the console. “Bend over, Turkey Neck. Do you hear my lady, Ada, ringing the triangle? No? Well… come and get it. It’s dinner time!” Ada cranked and lowered the ship’s six-foot-long probe and took careful aim at Caperton’s butt with the smoking ACME jalapeño coated device.

The violation of Farmer Joe Caperton was meant to be a serious warning to all the bipedal hump monkeys on Earth.

* * * *

The torture idea fell flat when Joe Caperton refused to suffer. The dumbfounded Ada later reported to the Goddess Cheri. “My Goddess! This idiot, this corn-holed chicken lover was diggin’ it! Instead of screaming for his mother, no! Most humans would be screaming for their great-great grandmother. Instead, this pea-brained hillbilly was movin’ and groovin’ on Cloud Nine.”

* * * *

“Are you two done sticking things in me yet? Well, are ya?”

Ada looked up from the probe’s console. “Are we what?”

“Are you done playin’ with my butt, lady?”

“I thought I’d dropped my keys in there,” said Buddy. “Sorry. Yeah, Mr. Caperton. We’re done. You can go soon.”

“Are you two sure that you’re done? You don’t want to play with it no more?”

“Mr. Caperton! We’re done!” said the already irritated Ada.

“You don’t want to play just a little more? You sure? I can tell you guys all kinds a-stuff about the Klan, bull semen, and such.”

The tired Buddy looked at the dumb hick. “That’s it, you old loon! Get out! Somebody call security!”

“Okay! Okay! Damned Mahjongs!”

“Ada and I are not Martians,” said Buddy. “Numbskull! And they are called Martians, not Mahjongs!

“We are Brills,” added Ada. “Martians are into team sports, decorating… and scouting. Not music! You heard what Buddy said! Go on! Split!”

Caperton put on his overalls and boots, and with his head bowed in rejection, walked bowlegged down the stairway of the ship and off into the starlit Texas night.

“Buddy? Do we have any security guards?”

“No, Ada, but I’ve learned that the mention of security guards is enough to scare anyone.”

* * * *

Farmer Joe Caperton never clearly saw the two Brill aliens who had questioned him. To him, the aliens appeared to be a pair of green diaphanous clouds. Caperton would later describe the Brills to the authorities as “small and green with enormous heads,” only because he once saw an artist’s rendering of Martians on the cover of Busty Alien Magazine at the candy store in town.

After one week, the only thing that Farmer Joe could remember about the Buddy and Ada Brill was “the clumsy female bouncing into me like bumper cars at the County Fair.”

He did recall that the two aliens frequently cussed at each other. They’d been sharing small quarters and banging into each other for over 45 years.

Buddy and Ada dismissed Farmer Joe from their spaceship across the field from an all-night diner called The Daisy. As Joe walked bowlegged toward the light of the diner, they saluted him and said, in unison, “A gezunt dir in pupik (ah Geh-zoont dear en pooh-pik)” which means “Best of health to your belly button.”

* * * *

The official police report was taken by Texas Rangers on the morning after Farmer Joe’s abduction. “The folks at The Daisy said you were trailin’ blood, Joe.”

The FBI would later omit the rube’s experience within the craft, as well as how the invisible aliens played this “scary music.” They called their music Rockabilly. “It was terrible, sir. They put a heathen jungle beat to our sacred country music!”

That music played on the octo-phonic speakers inside the spacecraft as the two aliens drilled Joe five ‘new ones.’

Joe Caperton’s tale was ‘too much’ for the Texas Rangers who were sick to their stomachs. He went on and on about the aliens, and how they’d turned his rototiller into a butt probe “that buzzed like a sumbitch, lit up like a burnin’ cross” and loaded his pooper with Naga Jolokia—the hottest pepper in the universe.

The Brills had written “Ring of Fire” with Farmer Joe in mind before they’d blasted off. To make sure that he would hear the song, it was immediately delivered to Joe’s young friend, Johnny Cash, at Joe’s own birthday party. Joe’s friends couldn’t understand why the math teacher broke out in tears upon hearing it.

Life magazine interviewed Farmer Joe in 1953. The interview never made it to print. The magazine’s “Farmer Joe” files were brought immediately to FBI headquarters in Washington DC under direct orders by J. Edgar Hoover, who read portions of it, in the bathroom, for three weeks.

A copy of Farmer Joe’s testimony still exists 350 feet beneath solid granite, at Area #61, in Nevada, where the ‘Mercan gubmint’ stores its best bathroom related humor.