The Ice Cream Man & Interdimensional Aliens

[EndtheMadnessNow]

Prologue of cover art and the short story follows below...

Here's a tasteful scene of a family enjoying ice cream cones with their bug-alien pals. It's Michael Whelan's cover art to "With Friends Like These..." by Alan Dean Foster, published Dec 1977.


"With Friends Like These...

The aliens had returned to Earth after centuries because they needed allies. But after hundreds of years, they had no idea what they would be getting the universe into...and they soon found out!"

Cover art also used for...


GURPS Aliens (1990)


So, has the ice cream man Joe Biden been trying to tell us something about interdimensional aliens?

It all began when the Henderson farm was suddenly and without warning sucked through a wormhole into another universe or basically a lost third dimension.

Nothing was destroyed; it was like the farm itself with everybody, animal, and crop was magically removed and transported to another world altogether. And it wasn't the only farm either. Hundreds went, leaving giant-like pot-holes or sinkholes all over the planet of Earth.

Yet those are other stories, this one is about the Henderson family who had to settle on the planet Greaseball.

Yes, such a pleasant name, and it was less nicer than Earth itself. You see it was named after an old smuggler by the name of Gilbert Greaseball. Long story short he settled on the planet with an assortment of alien races.

Greaseball pretty much turned into a 1930's Great Depression era of the United States of America that seriously had an immigration problem, but that's in the past.

Anyhoo, this is about the Henderson family. Pete and Shirley Henderson had no choice but to make it work on Greaseball, so Pete rolled up his sleeves and did what every farmer did… worked his farm.

Soon after Shirley gave birth to their son, Timmy, who eventually grew to be 10 years old, and was such a scamp on the farm.

Thankfully nothing changed much and humans worked with aliens in the nearby settlements and towns.

When cows and pigs and horses became hard to come by at times they had milk bugs, space pigs, and two-headed sabertooth horses.

Strange, but when faced with a new weird world you gotta do what ya gotta do. Make it work or become sludge in the swamp water of Agapanthia.

So one beautiful sunny day after going to Church to praise their version of Jesus, who was an asteroid lovebug named Herbert, the Henderson family settled in their kitchen with some of their new found friends with the years that they've been there.

George, who went by George, because he liked the name better than Grrthakawak, was a huge green brain bug. He was also Pete's foreman handyman that helped him a lot on the farm. They had become great buddies.

Nedrick, was a purple hairy horned beast that was also the local town Deputy. He was a huge law and order type of purple beast, and if he saw you jaywalk he'd give you such a lecture you'd wish that the two moons above would come crashing down.

Last but not least was Dr. Slezak, a weird looking orange cockroach. He was the local town physician and he was good at what he did. Shirley was a little freaked out when a cockroach helped her give birth though, but he turned out to be very good at his profession.

Anyway it was Sunday after church and Shirley was serving ice cream cones to everybody in the kitchen.

"Who wants another ice cream cone?" smiled Shirley as she looked sweet and nice that warm sunny day.

"Ooh-ooh, me, me," said George as he held out his big green bug hands, "I like chocolate. It makes me break out in bug pimples, but it's worth it."

Nedrick took one, "Thanks, I prefer vanilla myself, but I ain't picky."

Dr. Slezak nodded, "Just one, I have to venture over to the Wilson farm soon. I helped Mrs. Wilson give birth to twin girls yesterday."

Shirley smiled, "Why isn't that nice. I'll have to put together a baby basket for Wendy."

Pete replied as he took a cone, "Yeah, Jim Wilson has his hands full now. Ain't that right, George."

George smiled as he savored his ice cream cone, "Mmm, wait until they have 130 babies. I tell you it's not easy changing baby diapers. The little old wife is looking a little haggard lately I gotta tell you."

Timmy asked, "Can I have two ice cream cones, Mom?"

"Sure, sweetheart."

Pete looked at his boy, "Did you clean out the barn yesterday like I told you?"

"Yes, Pa," said Timmy, "Sweeped and shoveled out all the animal dung. So gross, can I have my allowance now?"

"Sure thing, sport," said Pete as he handed his son a whole space dollar.

"Wow," said Timmy as he looked at the picture of Gilbert Greaseball drunk with space rum on it, "So cool."

"Don't spend it all on junk food and outerspace baseball cards now," chuckled Pete.

George replied, "I remember my Pa when he made me work in the barn for my allowance. Timmy, be glad your Pa doesn't use a spacebull whip on you like my Pa used on me."

"Oh how horrible," said Shirley as she made sure everybody got an ice cream cone, "Parental abuse is not nice."

"Abuse?" said George, "No, it was my education in learning to use the whip on moving rocks."

Nedrick grunted, "You're as dense as your old man, George. There's no such thing as moving rocks unless you're on the volcanic planet of Nespar by the third sun."

Dr. Slezak nodded, "This is excellent ice cream, my dear. You make it yourself?"

Shirley nodded as she chuckled, "We women have our secrets now and then."

Pete replied, "George, you going to help me on that western fence today?"

"Of course," said George, "Is the corn field trying to escape again?"

"Yeah," said Pete, "Many are content, but I've heard a few call me nasty names and sprout profanity."

"Popcorn them," said Dr. Slezak.

Timmy said, "Can Lassie, my six-legged Collie come to town with me today?"

Pete said, "No, he's gotta watch the eight-legged sheep."

Shirley replied, "Timmy, me and you are going to get some new clothes from Flaggasnooples today. They are having a sale."

"Aw, Mom."

"Mind your mother," said Pete.

George gobbled up his 10th ice cream cone and said, "I'd love to have 40 more of these, but work calls."

Shirley nodded, "Well, the carton is empty anyway."

George said, "I'll eat that too."

"Um, okay."

Nedrick stood himself, "Well, the long arm of the law can't reach out here, so I'll just mosey on myself "

Dr. Slezak nodded, "Hold up, you can give me a lift."

And everybody walked out of the kitchen and out onto the old wooden porch.

Shirley smiled as she rubbed her boy's head, "Make sure you milk those milk bugs, Pete and George, because I've got a lot more ice cream to make."

Ice cream, such a wondrous thing that crossed galaxies and universes. From planet to planet. Through human and alien races to monsters and creatures far and wide. Ice cream, a sweet cold delicious treat that brought forth friends and family… and we all must praise not just Jesus, but Herbert too.

The End.

Ice Cream In The Third Dimension by Wes Robert Ward.

Between ice cream, UFOs & Aliens, And bugs might be part of the convoluted forthcoming "Great Narrative" by our favorite German villain. Bon Appétit!

[BIAD]

It reminds me of a tale from long ago...


We The Valiant.

It was obvious to me that the poor soul sitting in the Charge Room was paranoid, plain- and-simply paranoid.
It was two in the morning -a Saturday morning, may I add and the first wave of drunks had been processed.
This was my first 'Crazy' during the weekend shifts.

The heavily-stubbled man sat on the hard-boarded bench and watched me with tired-narrow eyes.
The weedkiller backpack lay at his booted-feet and if what Constable Jenkins had said was correct, the small
pool of liquid that had leaked from the badly-dented metal container was urine... human urine.

I breathed slowly through my nose and kept my hands behind my back, my schedule was already two hours
behind and when I had first arrested this guy, I had mentally accepted that my shift would finish with me
writing out reports at the Station and my partner would travel our patrol-route alone.

"You're okay kid..." the man said softly "...ah' can see by your face that yer' not one of them" His raspy-voice
offered the idea that he was a heavy-smoker, but it could be that he was just exhausted.

I nodded kindly and moved my eyes back to the recruitment poster on the wall opposite, the Charge Room
had started to smell of whatever was in that strange container and the dark-grey hosepipe lay like a dead
snake between his scuffed knee-high desert boots.

I would say he was around fifty years-old, he sported a badly-shaved crewcut and his attire consisted of a
filthy once-white vest, military pants and the tightly-laced boots. He carried no identification and his only
obvious markings were the tattoo and the four large scars across his upper-chest. It looked like he'd been
mauled by a tiger. 'A wannabe warrior' I thought to myself and stifled the smirk at my lips.

Two-fifteen am and I can smell stale urine. Another tell-tale sign of a Saturday night shift except this guy
wasn't drunk, this man was intoxicated with something far-more mind-blowing, he had drank from the pool
called the Internet.

"The Sergeant will be along in a moment" Sheila snapped as she passed by in the corridor, the pain-pinched
face behind the heavy-framed spectacles warned everyone that she-too, disliked this particular working period.

I had always been puzzled why the Station demanded that someone from Admin should work these terrible
hours. Sheila seemed to be always the one stuck with the shift and it seemed that her annoyance always
joined her on this particular time of the night. The man with the tired eyes just looked at the Weedkiller
backpack and said nothing.

When Officer Jenkins and myself had turned into the small street that we had nicknamed 'The Shallows' we
had expected to see a couple of down-stairs lights on, maybe a smiling late-nighter walking a dog and if our
luck was in, Mrs Kitchener with two steaming mugs of coffee.

The community was quiet, there was no half-eaten automobile slumped like a dead cow on an oil-stained
driveway, no chest-pounding thudding of the latest rap music and no screaming housewife sobbing at the
latest bruises from her drunken husband. It was the Shallows and Mrs. Kitchener was there with a smile.
A smile and two mugs of Java.

"How are my two boys enjoying their beat tonight?" the white-haired lady asked lightly. Looking over the hot
brew, I told her that everything was fine and my fellow Officer tipped her a kindly-wink. The metal tray that the
welcomed break had been served on lay beside the gate-post and showed a faded rendering of some military
battle of yore, I silently wagered that Mrs. Kitchener had a jigsaw puzzle somewhere in her little trim house
with a similar image adorning it's cardboard box.

"He'll be back tonight..." the lady whispered as she accepted the empty mugs back and glancing right-to-left
she added "... they've been all the way back to 1947, you know?" Mrs. Kitchener's face showed that she was
imparting a secret and with a small hope that The Shallows hadn't fallen into the same world of craziness
that seemed to be everywhere these days, I showed a puzzled brow.

"Bruce and his friends... the ones in the Ice Cream Van? They've been hunting aliens again and the internet
told them that the Roswell Incident was where it all began" she said softly and showed a serious gaze.

Jenkins breathed in deeply and shrugged, his quick glance told me that it was time to leave before we ruined
our night-time break and so, I nodded knowingly at Mrs. Kitchener and told her it was time to get back to our
beat.

"You-two take care and remember, they don't like pee on their skin!" Mrs. Kitchener had imparted to us as we
moved away into the night and Jenkins told me later that it had taken a tremendous amount of will-power not
to burst out laughing at that point. I never told him, but I was wrestling with the same demon too.

We left with a wave from the end of the street to the solitary figure of the old woman with the battle tray under
her arm and I agreed with Jenkins that it was a crying-shame what old age does to folk.

"That damn guidance-system played up again" the grizzled man in the Charge Room muttered and this brought
me back from my wool-gathering. He had said his name was Bruce when we had first encountered him racing
through the alleyway nearer the town centre, but you can never be sure when you're dealing with a crazy... well,
you can never be sure at all these days.

"Sir, the Officer that will deal with you will be along shortly" I replied with a slight tone of warning and was rewarded
with an expression of raised eyebrows, "Thanks" Bruce whispered softly and turned his resigned face towards the
recruitment poster. Five minutes passed without incident.

He hadn't resisted arrest, he hadn't attempted to explain his reason for running around at night with a tank-full of
piss on his back and he hadn't tried to reason with us, it was a unique Saturday shift that was as welcoming as
Mrs. Kitchener's coffee.

"Maybe that was always our problem..." the man called Bruce said as he gazed at the poster opposite me
"...we never recruited enough soldiers for our cause" I rocked on my heels and steeled myself for the usual
crazy talk.

It always came. It was inevitable, the drunks did it and the crazies did it. As the morning slowly rolled towards us,
the people who sat where this strange individual was seated -always attempted to dig their way out of the trouble
they were in. I was just surprised that he'd started so early. "Don't worry son, I ain't one of those that you usually
get in here..." he hissed as it seemed he'd read my mind. "...I'm just tired of the war" he said so softly that I barely
heard it.

Sergeant Gordon ran the paperwork ten minutes later and Bruce was required to come back to the Station the
next day, he was warned that the odorous container was to be stored away and never be used in that fashion
again. Bruce had nodded throughout the interview and answered in the correct places, I left to change back
into my civilian clothes shortly after.

So the cold air came as a welcoming touch on my skin as I stepped out into the Police Station car-park on that
Sunday morning. I would sleep until 3.00pm and then get that lawn cut, I should have done it on my last day-off,
but... well, but.

The gaudy-coloured Ice Cream van waited near the empty gatehouse at the far-end of the car-park. It idled there
with it's exhaust fumes pluming in the morning air like dragon's breath and my stride slowed as I neared it.

"Well, the internet told us to go to Rendlesham in 1980" the raspy-voice said from behind me, I whirled and readied
myself for an assault. "Easy fella... Ah'm just tellin' yer that I'll not be back this way fur a while" Bruce said with a
the saddest of smiles on his craggy face.

I thought it prudent not to debate or warn this guy who stood nonchalantly with the stinky-backpack on his shoulder,
I was off-shift now and sometimes this could be seen as a weakness.

"We could do with a fella like you, yer' know...?" he offered and looked from my eyes towards the extraordinary
vehicle that rumbled and growled near the exit. "...Yer'll be surprised how they hide in plain sight" he offered genially
and revealed his full weariness.

He left then, and opening the rear-door of the Ice Cream van, he tossed his peculiar baggage inside and then
followed it. I -being a law-enforcing Officer of the Crown, watched with an open mouth. There were other human
-shapes in the shadows of that van, but the wee-small voice inside me told me not to dwell on this insane moment
and get the hell out of there.
I had reached the main road just past the gatehouse when the flash came and spinning around at the sudden glare,
I half-expected to see the Ice Cream van in flames or even worse, the Police Station.

It had gone... the vehicle that had proclaimed lavish-coloured ice cream and monkey's blood, the pink-and-yellow
camper that offered crushed-nuts and time-travel had vanished.

..................................

Somewhere out there is a war, it can straddle space and time and it lurks in plain sight.
No man can fight it alone and the only things it fears is faith and body fluids.
Will you take a ride in that Ice Cream truck?