It was one of those cherished warmish days around the October/November cusp, Halloween time to some, the season of Samhain to others as the northern hemisphere headed into the final six weeks of waning solar brightness until the whole cycle would hit rock bottom and start all over again. The nonsensical shifting of the clock from “daylight” to “standard” time was also imminent, adding to the general mood and thoughts about how this time of year certainly has its odd distinctions and none of them particularly upbeat, unless one favors the cold and the dark and, for lack of a better word, the spooky.
Despite all that, this particular day was in fact rather pleasant, a perfect day for Gumby and a few friends to celebrate the recent refinishing of the back porch table, with layer upon layer of tung oil, no less, and if you’ve never tried tung oil, you haven’t lived, or so some believe, among them woodworkers the world over. If you know nothing about tung trees you are forgiven but rest assured that they certainly exist, at least in China and South America and maybe even in your backyard – have you looked lately?
And so it was that the festivities commenced with Gumby & Pokey & Godzillito in attendance, as one would expect, but also the marvelous inspiring presence of the Lizzes, Big Liz and Little Lizzie, as well as Odie, their marvelous flying sidekick, which made the assembled group a genuine sextet. Gumby as usual provided no refreshments, in this case forgivable as how does one serve a group that includes reptiles and a horse and an insect and whatever it is that Gumby is? Impossible! or so Gumby assumed. What matters is that they all knew Gumby well enough to satisfy their varied appetites in advance.
There was also nothing offered in the way of entertainment or idle distraction, no music or dancing or card games, leaving the group to engage in the usual sport at Gumby events, which was lots of small talk with occasional forays into vital topics of the day, so long as things didn’t get too gloomy or personal as Gum wants such events to be upbeat, okay? This left out topics like global injustice and conflict, overpopulation and energy shortages and climate change, or the fact that Big Lizzie was supposed to be extinct, all of his ancestors having been wiped out by the planet’s collision with an asteroid a long long time ago. Big Lizzie never offered an explanation for his circumstances, which certainly lent him an air of mystery, something many find attractive, Gumby among these.
The small talk had been more than sufficient for awhile, folks marveling over the wondrous rejuvenation of the finish on the table whereupon they were celebrating, so smooth and richly toned it surely was, which was followed by the usual stale tung oil jokes, followed by commentary over the splendid fall colors of the tree leaves reaching peak at this particular moment, followed by the expected debate over whether the colors were indeed peaking or perhaps might just be a bit past peak, at least here on Iffley Road. And might they still be pre-peak south of here, say in Rhode Island or Connecticut, with peak color yet to arrive? This debate of course never gets resolved in any meaningful way, and some ventured to change the subject to topics no less small, like the World Series and the current market price of maggots, a culinary five of all present, except perhaps Pokey, who good-humouredly took part in the conversation anyway.
At some point someone ventured into uncontroversial current events, probably Godzillito, who spends all day scouring YouTube for good conversational topics. This went fine for awhile but at some point our tiny reptilian friend happened to comment on how wasn’t it cool when NASA intercepted that astroid and successfully altered its course of direction? with no consideration whatsoever for Big Lizzie’s tragic history and how the big purple guy might feel about this particular topic. All anyone noticed was how Big Lizzie didn’t miss a beat in changing the topic to one of related extraterrestrial interest, namely the much anticipated “classified” progress report by the US intelligence agencies to Congress regarding UAP.
Of course everybody responded with a chorus of “What in the heck is that?” which seemed to be exactly what Big Liz expected, as his quicker-than-a-flying-saucer reply was “Why, Unidentified Aerial Phenomena, which you have always known as UFOs, but of course government can never leave well enough alone, can they?” With this bit of sarcasm Liz knew he was treading on thin ice, risking a shift of the conversation in too serious a direction, at least by Gumby standards of conduct. He seemed aware of this and wisely shifted things in a more fun or at least distracting direction by asking the group if anyone here had ever personally witnessed an object or phenomenon in the sky that was unidentifiable, be it flying or floating or tearing along at a great speed, or whatever.
Of course everybody had at some point witnessed something, either strange or beautiful or downright curious, which begged the question that really mattered, according to our weighty unextinct dino friend, which was “So d’ya think it was extraterrestrial?” To which he added “our government seems to believe – or want to believe – that this can never be the case, even when their own experienced people, trusted with the security of the country, tell them it’s the only possible explanation!” Of course by this time BL had captured everyone’s rapt attention, as all were indeed concerned with their security. Aren’t we all?
Liz had clearly done his homework on this one – or maybe he’d been coached earlier by Godzillito, we will never know – as he proceeded to tell the tale of the latest updated “classified” report by the US intelligence agencies to that mighty country’s Congress on what gives with UAP, and on Halloween no less. “Why ‘UFO’ is no longer acceptable is anybody’s guess, but one never questions the government on such matters, does one? as it won’t ever get you anywhere. Their grand conclusion, or so says a leaked report to the New York Times, is that it’s all just ‘foreign spying and airborne trash’ or innocuous things to that effect, nothing to worry about here so move along, folks! This, despite 18 of the 144 ‘explained’ incidents having ‘unusual flight characteristics’ that were beyond explaining”.
The mighty lizard’s tale was twitching excitedly or at least in a very animated fashion by this point, as he went on: “and let us not forget the five ‘observables’ reported by US Navy pilots and radar operators (who are trained a bit better than most of us in these matters) which mentioned such things as sudden and unusual acceleration with no visible signs of propulsion, ‘cloaking’ abilities (remember those nasty Romulans and their weird haircuts? what if they’re really out there?), hypersonic velocity with no infrared signature (a radar operator will tell you this is impossible, at least insofar as what we currently know about physics, which might not be much), and, in the words of one of them, what looked like objects ‘not of this world’ which is military jargon for ‘extraterrestrial’. Look it up”.
Our giant purple friend then gave a bit of the history of government studies of UAP/UFOS/flying saucers/little green men etc. and how our trusted civil servants reliably never find anything sensational or even of the slightest concern, starting with Project Blue Book back in the 1950s and 60s, when outer space had been so threatening and downright exciting. “PBB went on for many years before grandly concluding that the subject was ‘not worthy of further study’. Talk about boring! Fortunately real world events have not co-operated with that conclusion, which raised the need for more government attention that would reach the same conclusion”.
At this point Liz fell silent and there was an uncomfortably long pause in the day’s festivities which led everybody to have thoughts about leaving, when our heavyset friend unexpectedly said “Oh, and one more thing” which would’ve surprised no one who knew he was a big Columbo fan. “And would you believe?” (a pause here, for dramatic effect – who’d have thought he’d also studied theater?} “there have been reports of otherworldly or at least strange sightings RIGHT DOWN THERE?” at which point he directed his long cumbersome spiny tail in the general direction of the backyard down below, completely festooned as it was with colorful droppings from the maples ascending high overhead.
Which left our little group speechless though not for long, as this provocation was for Gumby like somebody throwing bloody meat into a pond of piranhas. Always thirsting for an adventure, especially if it might involve awe and mystery and didn’t require much travel, Gum’ proclaimed “Which means we must get to the bottom of this without delay!” or words to that effect, as it was clear that the celebration that had started in such high spirits was running out of steam and needed a course correction immediately, if not sooner. “Who’s with me?” he asked, knowing full well that this particular group was always looking for something to do if it was a nice day out, which it was. And as reported, the backyard looked resplendent in fall color, more inviting than forbidding by a long shot.
Gumby, of course, would have none of this positivity, as adventure to him always meant serious business, involving danger and unexpected challenge and things unknown, in general. He knew exactly what to do in this moment. “You know, things have been a bit strange around here lately, come to think of it” which was his introduction to a story about recently passing through the kitchen one morning and noticing what looked like a black cat “with penetrating blue eyes” lurking in the window behind the blinds. “And I think it was winking at me”. Now seeing a black cat in these parts is not all that special, especially during Halloween season when so many come to New England to attend festivities up in Salem, the Witch City that has become a sort of theme park for all that is spooky. But there in the kitchen window on Iffley Road, winking? Gumby, as one might expect, soon had the crowd right in the palm of that waving green hand, as he artfully set the mood for his next adventure.
And of course, it was not long before the intrepid group of celebrants, which Gumby now referred to as “my crack team of phenomena investigators” had set out across the crinkly expanse of the backyard, not so much bushwhacking as leafwhacking its way towards Fossil Rock, which everybody knows is the epicenter of strangeness, at least here in the middle of the block on Iffley Road. For one thing it has fossils, which are always a bit strange or at least out-of-place here in modern times. For another, Gumby & Pokey & Godzillito have long reported, sometimes loudly in public, of these strange dreams each has had about encountering glowing green orbs, wrinkly ones at that, up there atop the rock in the aerie heights. Some super race of alien brains? Seed pods waiting to snatch whatever it is snatching seed pods snatch, like in that terrific movie from the 1950s? Whatever these dreams might be about, what matters is that bringing them up always draws attention to the teller, and if there is one thing G,P,& little G have in common, it’s extroversion.
In the early stages of the trek, our crack team, still in the jolly mood that had prevailed since their coming together only a few hours before, was quite chatty, especially as regards the topic of all the strangeness in this world. They pondered the significance of the cat in the window, which the Lizzes recalled was also a song by Petula Clark back in the ‘70s, which led to an animated discussion of whether “Downtown” was Pet’s greatest song, until Gumby hissed for everybody to keep quiet and how “Don’t Sleep in the Subway” was obviously superior. The group proceeded to whisper about whether there was ever a song about glowing green brain-like orbs but it seemed pretty clear that at least no such tune had ever made it to the pop charts but maybe after this expedition? But who would write it and sing it? at which point Godzillito smiled slyly, which might’ve meant a whole lot but then again probably nothing.
Just as consensus was reached that the group could surely handle whatever strangeness they might encounter on this day, their moment of collective confidence faded quickly when Little Lizzie suddenly recalled experiencing a rather odd moment back there on the tabletop, as the celebration had commenced but a few hours earlier. “A strange vibe it was, like there was an unseen presence among us, something human and maybe something avian, and also something fishy, and there was also the faint sound of a koto playing in the background” to which Pokey quipped “or maybe there’s something fishy about you bringing this up, right now!” P, as much as he loved the Gumbster, was also suspicious that his green pal was always colluding with others to mess with people’s heads, and that Little Liz and Gumby might somehow be working together to make fools of all of them. “Let it go, Poke!” thought Gumby, knowing full well what his horsey pal was suspecting, but it is also a fact that Pokey was embarrassed at not knowing what a koto was, and his whole reaction might have just been defensiveness. So much unfortunate behavior in this world arises from our insecurities, wouldn’t you say?
It is also possible that he was simply getting testy due to fatigue, for they had been zigging and zagging up the hill towards Fossil Rock for quite awhile, pushing leaves out of the way the whole time. Part of Gumby’s leadership style was to never proceed in a straight line, which could be charming or annoying, depending. And while one might think that a dried leaf is no big deal to shove aside, our little friends, except in the case of Big Liz, were up to their necks in the crinkly stuff, and there were thousands of them. The expedition had overlooked equipping itself with rakes or leaf blowers, in such haste and excitement had it been assembled, and they were now paying the price.
But soon enough there they were, ascending the rocky and aerie heights towards the strange and the unknown and who knows what else? perhaps the other-worldly, as well. And wouldn’t you know it, while pausing for an opportune rest break and group photo-op, didn’t Big Liz happen to notice, out of the corner of his distinctive glowing red eye, something very strange, even a bit chilling, up there on the hill past Grasshopper Grotto? Why what to his wandering eye should appear but a miniature plane, now wasn’t that queer? Queer because, aside from its diminished size and impossible location, it also happened to be the spitting image of a Mitsubishi A6M, a fighter plane lovingly known to its Japanese pilots as the Zero-sen, which colloquially became simply “Zero”, or even “Zeke” to those pilots who opposed it in combat, which happened to be in the South Pacific 80 years before. Liz was not only a history buff, but also a big fan of old airplanes, even miniature ones. He’d always wished he’d been born a pterodactyl, but had long accepted that you can’t always get what you want.
What was also extremely odd about this example was how the national markings, the familiar Rising Sun symbol beloved of the Imperial government and the Japanese Navy, had been subtly or brutally altered, depending on your point of view, into a tomato-red depiction of the familiar Yin and Yang symbol, which everybody knows is all about the balance of opposite and interconnected forces in the universe and which, above all, is a product of Chinese culture. Of course, the joke here, or paradox or confusing element or however you will have it, is that the Chinese and Japanese cultures have forever been at odds with one another, which has led to some particularly ugly history, about which the two modern nations have never reconciled. At this point BL’s tiny head and brain were spinning in serious cosmic circles, indeed. What was going on?
Concern about not upsetting the group while also providing encouragement to proceed with their mission, Liz played down the cosmic elements now weighing heavily upon his mind and simply announced that there was certainly something odd up the hill, there, and perhaps it would be fun to check it out? After exclamations to the tune of “Jeez, it just looks like some old airplane!” and “Darn! That’s not extraterrestrial, at all but it’s certainly peculiar!” they all proceeded apace up the hill, past the Homage to the Bard and Grasshopper Grotto, familiar landmarks to all, which at this point aroused little interest aside from comments by Odie about how a Midsummer Night’s Dream was the only worthy bit of Bard output as it had dragonflies onstage, a fact some doubted but were unwilling to dispute, as Odie could get totally insufferable when an argument arose.
It wasn’t long before our brave and rugged sextet was grouped immediately beneath the odd craft in question. To his bitter disappointment, Liz was not a good fit on the elevated and precarious platform on which the airplane was perched – if it was truly an “airplane” at all, as Liz started having thoughts about how looks can be deceiving. He had also been curious about whether this thing or apparition or nicely crafted re-creation depicted an A6M2 version of the plane, as used early in the war (at Pearl Harbor, for example) or the more common A6M5 that later supplanted earlier versions (and was shot down in great numbers as its weaknesses in air combat were discovered and exploited). Seeing the craft at close range closed this discussion, as one of the major distinctions had been updates in the engine employed, and now it was clear that this version was powered by a rubber band, most unusual and frankly downright shocking. Was this some top secret project inspired by Imperial Japan’s desperate shortage of fuel supplies at war’s end? Liz was becoming ever more certain that the answer was only to be found….out there.
And of course here it was appearing in the back yard on Iffley Road, on a kind of platform, no less, suggesting it had not landed on a runway as one might expect, but had somehow hovered into place. Hovering, of course, is a function of the very phenomenon which had set the whole ball rolling, so to speak, and Liz had thoughts about how they might finally be getting somewhere with this little escapade – but where? The answer – if one wished to call it that – was to arrive in pretty short order, as Odie and Godillito, the most mobile of the crack team’s members, ascended to the canopy of the ever-more-fragile appearing contraption – was it really constructed of balsa wood and tissue paper, as a close up inspection suggested? Atop the transparent enclosure they could get a good look at what mysteries the vessel might contain. Indeed, there was evidence of some kind of pilot at the controls!
Of course, their vision was obscured by what appeared to be the dust of centuries, or at least of the past summer which had been very dry, indeed in New England. Odie had some success in blowing a layer of this away with the downdraft from four tiny wings, only to reveal….
“Uncle Gordo! It’s my long lost Uncle Gordo!” exclaimed Godzillito in his piercingly shrill tiny-lizard voice, but if this was truly the case, any chance for a joyful reunion was lost when a veritable flood of events swept our group of friends up in a torrent of confusion and incomprehensible oddness. Before you could say “Unidentified Aerial Phenomena” 1) No fewer than eight well wrinkled glowing orbs suddenly appeared on the rock below Grasshopper Grotto, looking for all the world like so many well-preserved brains of some unknown species 2) the entire group, save for Big Liz, found themselves tossed helter-skelter into the midst of this odd verdant assortment of contorted spheres 3) Two tallish figures appeared standing beside the unidentified and unidentifiable craft or vessel or whatever it was, at which moment the distinct sounds of a koto were heard by all 4) everything up on the pedestal disappeared altogether, replaced by the green glowing thingies about which too much has been said already.
And our crack team of sleuthing adventurers? There they were, suddenly transported by some extrasensory or spiritual force beyond understanding, back upon that lovely newly-refinished tabletop, none the worse for what had just ensued and perhaps even good as new. Which left nothing else to do but have a debriefing, as that is how all adventures led by Gumby must always end. It has something to do with a leadership seminar he had taken once online.
And as with so many such Gumby inspired post-escapade events, this one began as well with the usual question: What in the hell had just happened? What clever and mischievous intelligence had been playing with everyone’s perceptions? What was the meaning of all the Asian references and historic elements? Had that truly been Godzillito’s long lost Uncle Gordo? and no, Gordo had not disappeared in an alien abduction as one might think, but in a corn maze long long ago, which could’ve been an alien abduction after all, as might be the case with many longstanding disappearances. Which begs the question: are corn farmers part of some alien abduction conspiracy? An agricultural industry that sells a product like ethanol is capable of anything.
Or was it all simple mass hysteria? Most importantly was it extraterrestrial in origin? Big Liz might have the final word on all this: “shape-shifting, obviously shape-shifting, with a refreshing sense of humor.” The Truth is still Out There, which might be the biggest cosmic joke of all.
