UFO . . .

By P.W. Rooter
Special Correspondent

Well, my vacation was busted last month when I struck out fer a cool spot up on th' Saline Bayou above Goldonner. I hit th' crossin' on Big Creek above Dodson, and run in t' that big new-ground clearin' an' hung around awhile t' see if they was gon' plant anything that'd be worth my time a' waitin' for. All they done was t' scrape an' haul, an' pack dirt, then scrape an' haul an' pack s'more. I couldn' figger out no reason fer what was goin' on, so I commenced t' stroll on back t'wards my reg'lar nest way out on Flat Creek on th' back side 'a Gaar's Mill.

Travelin' at night, I was trottin' along on a li'l ol' back trail out a'past th' Harmony Grove graveyard, gittin' perty t'ard, but close a'nuff t' my nest, I knowed I could make it b'fore sunup and git me a long rest up in a cool spot I know about where don't nothin' never bother me.

I rounded th' bend a' th' creek an' seen my nest, right up ahead where that big ol' brush heap kind a' nestles up agin'st a gre't big swee'gum. Wern't but a few steps more, so I set down t' get a breath a' fresh mornin' air right about daybreak. Ever'thing was right still, like it gits that time 'a day, an' I commenced t' git real sleepy. First thing I knowed, my eyes popped op'n when I seen some kind a' real bright light skimmin' up over th' treetops, sailin' around makin' a kind 'a whinin' racket, real low, 'bout like a high-pitched sawmill runnin' way off th'ough th' woods yonder. Nex' thing, here that thing come, a'sailin' real slow around th' treetops, shinin' lights all up an' down, and then, be derned if that big round thing didn' set down right dab on th' ground, right there in that li'l ol' open spot, and doors started comin' open and some sort a' critters started scootin' out and lookin' around. They seen me sittin' there with my eyes bugged out, and two of 'em come on over t' me, and made some kind 'a buzzin' noise I ain't never h'yeard nobody make b'fore, and it 'peared like they was lookin' right at me like they thought I orter say sump'n to 'em. Well sir, They wadn' talkin' nothin' I understood, and I don't think I'd 'a said nothin' they understood, neither, so I just set there.

Next thing I knowed, them critters come up t' me and waved a little stick of a thing at me. I couldn' tell what they was doin' but I h'yeard one of 'em say somethin' in that kind 'a buzzin' way they 'peared t' talk. One of 'em run that lil' ol' stick around my hind legs, and I know dern well I h'yeard him say, "...ham!"

I jumped up an' stepped out perty fast, and by th' time I got t' my brush heap, they was plumb gone, lights an' all, and wadn' nothin' I could see of 'em. An' I ain't lookin' fer 'em, neither.

UFO . . .

little piglets . . . wearin' funny suits and gruntin' in a kind a' talk I never h'yeard b'fore.