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Updated on August 19, 2014
Photo by Randall Chestnutt
Photo by Randall Chestnutt


Beneath the red sandy surface of Mars sat two, three foot green Martians with pointed heads. The small living room was one among many the Martians had honeycombed and interconnected underground just after Galileo invented the telescope. The dwarf-sized Martians didn’t want the giant Earthlings to know of their existence in the cosmos.

The two tiny Martians, Jak and Jilla, were engaged in the Martians favorite pass time, watching American TV. They delighted in the comedies, and musicals, and especially the cowboys and Indians. This might imply they were likeable creatures, and they were, except they liked to drink human blood.

It isn’t really fair to say the “liked it” because it wasn’t for the flavor or the nutritional value, but for the experience. It gave the Martians a more human frame of mind, enabling them to better understand the TV shows. Otherwise, the tall tales from Earth would be meaningless to the Martians. .

A friend of this writer once underwent a blood transfusion. He reported that for a time his thoughts and perceptions seemed to be not his own. Similarly the Martians required just a taste to experience human consciousness. The ethics of the matter was much discussed among the Martians for a while, but who can resist all those great soap operas?

So every month a pair of Martians were selected by lot to take the public bloodmosaucer to Earth for the National monthly supply of human blood. The duly elected were strictly instructed not to imbibe while on duty because of the resulting drunkenness. It was safe enough in the privacy of ones own cubicle, but while gliding through the universe a Martian could become confused between his own reflexes and those of a human.

Jak and Jilla were very pleased the day they were selected. They knew that when they returned there would be a national celebration with them as the guests of honor. As stars on local television they would get to tell the tale of their bravery and expertise at out-witting the huge and frightening Earthlings. Then there would be many invitations to smaller gatherings to tell the tale again. What fun lay ahead…

In the dark Texan night, an old cattle farmer, in a drunken stupor, nodded against the steering wheel of his stopped pick-up truck that lay stuck in a ditch at the side of the quiet country road. This man was the first human the thirsty little Martians came upon. They parked the space ship and, equipment in hand ran up to the cattle man. They rolled up his sleeve and, with the tiny hypodermic needle, removed a few ounces of the desired liquid.

The farmer shivered to life. “Uh oh,” said Jak.

With very slow slurred speech and a Texan drawl, the man started to complain. “Why you pesky little varmints, he stuttered, “What do you think you are doing to my arm?”

“Well, what do you think yer are doing?” ventured Jak, “Seeing little green men from Mars? You’re drunk!”

The Texan cow puncher eyed him coldly."You know, you’re right”, he said. Then he went back to sleep. The Martians healed his cut with a ray pen and rolled the sleeve back down his arm.

“Shell we imbibe?”, asked Jilla.

“We’re not supposed to, Eve my dear.”

“Very funny!”

“Well, just a little, love. It’s so fresh.”


They both took a sip and got into the space ship. After a while they started seeing cattle and began to think of the ship as a bucking bronco. With them at the wheel, drunk, it acted like one. “Ya Hoo!” yelled the team of delinquents. “Rope that steer! Brand that cow. Ya Hoo!”

The ship whizzed up and down, turned quickly, zig zagged, and skidded like a stone across grass and rivers while the pair chased imaginary cattle with imaginary lassoes.

They didn’t regain their senses until the next day. A whole night that should have been used gathering vials of refreshment was wasted. The small colony of Martians expected their return in three days.

The rising sun exposed a small river where on the beach was a little blonde girl asleep in a sleeping bag. Her young juices would be extra fine.

The pair snuck up on her quietly. After exposing her arm, they sank in the needle. The girl shivered but didn’t awaken. After it was over Jilla nudged Jak.

“How about a little taste, Jak?”

“You know what happened last time.”

That blood had alcohol in it. This batch is clean.”

“OK, OK,” said Jak, wondering why he was so lovingly henpecked. They spent the next day on imaginary tire swings, swinging out over a river and splashing into the cold blue water. The ship got drenched. Then they sucked on Popsicles and played Raggedy Ann and petted imaginary kittens. Blissful smiles emerged from their faces as they hid in imaginary tree houses and held hands.

When they came around they found two of the allotted three days were gone and the blood banks were empty. Hurriedly they sought another target

The space ship swooped slowly over the rolling hills of a Marine war games camp. The night was deep, and the troops were asleep. The duo snuck up on a big green tent. It was so big they thought it was inhabited by a bigger human who would have more blood to spare. It was the abode of a five star general. Quickly they rolled up his green shirt sleeve and did their best work. Again they talked themselves into sampling the goods. Again, they had a dream.

This time, however, the dream was not so intense. The general was old and his blood was thin. During their imaginary assault on Berlin, they were having trouble trying to solve their current dilemma; that of having only eight hours to pick up a three days supply of red juice. Grabbing Jilla by the arm, Jak dragged her back to the ship

Jak pushed a red button on the ship’s dashboard and a red beam shot out from the craft and lighted a circle around the general’s late night snack table of snacks, making him wonder why he suddenly saw red. He blinked and was aboard the Martian space craft with a little green guy pointing some sort of gun or something at his big belly. His English was pretty good.

“I’m general Jak of Mars. Take me to your leader!” When the general refused Jak disintegrated his continental hard roll as the general bit into its hard round end, significantly adjusting the general’s attitude. Over the CB radio Jak and Jilla had picked up at a Wal-Mart’s, President Barry O agreed quickly that the earthlings would supply regular shipments of small amounts of blood, courtesy of the Red Cross, once a month, in exchange for the patent to the small space ship. Barry O wanted his ride and nailed it down quickly. So, the Martians would have their monthly supply of TV helper from now on without adventure, reported Jak and Jilla when they returned to Mars, minus an adequate supply for the up coming Super Bowl. Boy, were they in trouble when the high counsel heard that! They had to stay in their cubicles alone for three weeks without TV. They almost lost their minds. No football, either.



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    • Wrath Warbone profile imageAUTHOR

      Terry Chestnutt 

      7 years ago from Cleveland, Ohio

      Thanks much, Selene_A_Merchant!

    • Selene_A_Merchant profile image


      7 years ago

      Good story! Well done!


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