Mr. R. was born in Doolibbie, Tennessee… a city that was later paved over, then a fudge factory was built there. Maybe in 1823. Is anyone here a card carrying member of the Chattanoogah Chocolatiers? Ha. No. They are long gone.

    But Mr. R. started that factory and retired due to the inability to tolerate the masses. So he went on in his 70s to Oregon, as a widower with 49 children from about 13 previous marriages to Poodukah, Oregon. Right outside Modern Day Seaside. A beach town. He ran a bed and breakfast.

    For about 21 years, he was the only customer. There was no sign. All the windows were boarded up. There was a knock at the front glass door.
91 year old Mr. R. answered the door to a young woman who was a botanist. She was 38, had smooth skin and dark hair and dark glassy eyes. She needed a place to stay the summer while she checked the sand hills for plant life.

    Mr. R. decided to allow her to stay. She stayed in the room next to him. And she brought her parents, too. He stayed in room 1 next to the lobby. She, Miss Rosaline Butterfield, stayed in room 2. In room 3, the family monkey stayed. The monkey likes room to do her thing. In room 4, there was Momma. She had eyes like the Eath seen from outerspace. Blue mysteries.

In room 5, Papaw stayed. He was an inventor. He had two legs but could not walk. He wore a helmet with a tea cup chihuahua on it to ward off Mexican illegals he said. But he was 111 years old. When a man gets that old, the jokes he tells are sometimes longer to tell than the lifespan of a lucky alleycat who finally gets it at age 22 by falling backwards into a pihranna tank. Don’t dwell on that. I’m doing my best.

    So Mr. R. took Rosaline out for a nice cup of coffee. As they talked, the old 91 year old began to confess he felt he was going to kick the bucket and never had he met anyone as beautiful as her in heart and smile. She said, “Of course I’ll marry you…”.

  “What?”, said the old 91 year old dark haired worn down war horse chocolatier from Tennessee… “How’d you know I wanted to propose?”

   She smiled and said, “I am an alien from Heaven and you are not going to die today.” She said. Mr. R. shook his head and looked at her again. He was not old! He was 30? He said to her, “You and your family are welcome forever at my “Mr.R. Ranch… or as long as you are in town.”

    She smiled. Then her phone rang. She answered it. She began to speak in a dialect he never had heard. Past her shoulders outside was a flash of light. As far as the eye could see..  RVs..  and people and children getting out.

      “Who are they?”, said Mr.R. She kissed him on the lips and said, “I give you immortality… and in return… you have to live with all my alien in laws. I am an alien girl and I super-dooper love you forever, Mr. R.

     So, in a parallel universe, the Oregon coast has legions of space craft RVs from planet Hypnotron. But you won’t see it when you go to Seaside. You have to close your eyes to begin to feel the story. And maybe Mr. R. and Rosaline still intersect there in our 2014 world to say hi. But you wouldn’t know unless you really looked.

     Mr R. drives a sporty car. Mrs. Rosaline rides a horse. Sometimes they walk together. You can tell by the way they talk and hold hands that they are alien. I say its the extra cooties that Hypnotronites have that make a glow.

    And they think kids are cool. But when will they open up shop and come out of retirement? Only Mr. Retirement’s Boss knows- the Galactic Balagabookah.

The End