For a Cup of Joe

At 6:30 am, Irving slid his feet into his slippers and cinched his sunflower yellow dressing robe at his waist. He shuffled towards the kitchen, straight for the coffee pot. Life was always better after a cup or two.

“Well I’ll be,” he muttered, finding the cabinet above the coffee pot empty, not even the remnants of an ancient bag of grounds in sight. He briefly considered posing the problem to his still sleeping wife. “Nah,” he thought, “She’s useless ‘fore 8 am anyhow.”

“To town we go. For a cup of Joe,” Irving chanted, grabbing his truck keys.

/--\---/--\

Irving was whistling pleasantly when he saw the first sliver of orange, underripe tomato peeking above the horizon. He furrowed his brow and punched the the radio on, fumbling with the dials until:

“-- strange sightings —-- missing — cosmic event — red sun — keep indoors — moon.”

“Nope!” Irving announced, punching the button again. He glanced up just in time to slam on his brakes, finding a large cow smack dab in the middle of the road.

He honked his horn, then rolled down his window and yelled “Go on home, Bess.”

She turned her large head towards him and answered, “Mooo.”

“Hell,” Irving muttered, kicking the truck door open. He walked right up to the cow, yellow gown flapping at his knees, and he smacked her soundly on the rump. “Get on home, Bess! MOVE!”

She whipped her tail and echoed, “Moooove.”

“Excuse me, Missie! You’re blocking the -,” Irving began. “Now, wait a minute! You didn’t just tell me to move, did you, Bess?”

“Humph,” Bess snorted. “Careful, Irving. Red suunn, puurrrple mooOOn.”

“Purple -” Irving stuttered, stumbling backwards.

Bess raised her cowbrows at him and ambled off.

/--\---/--\

The sun was a perfect orange-red tomato wedge when he pulled into the parking lot of the Stop-N-Go and found it… closed.

“Well I’LL BE!” Irving barked, aghast.

His old buddy, Bernie, pulled up in his rusty brown car. Only then did Irving remember his yellow dressing gown. “Nothing for it,” he grumbled, cinching the waistband tight again. He hurried to catch Bernie at the door.

“Quick,” Bernie whispered, beckoning him inside the store.

“Bernie, what in tarnation is going on around here?” Irving exclaimed. “Nobody in town. Radio’s mad. Livestock’s mad. And unless I’m imagining things, that sun is actually red!”

Bernie pressed his finger to his lips and whispered “They are watching. Listening too. Jimbo was taken last night.”

“Taken where?” Irving asked, bewildered.

“Up, Irving! To their spaceships to experiment on!”

“What? Aliens?? Come now, B–” Irving began, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

Bernie interrupted, “Shhh! People been disappearing all over. They are attuned to domesticated animals, their smell or body heat. All of the people who’ve been taken had animals with them!”

Irving gulped. “Domesticated how?”

“You know, tame and such.”

“You mean pets?” asked Irving, holding his breath.

“Well not only pets, any domesticated animal. Some of ‘em’s farm animals.”

“Ah HELL,” Irving said. “I’ve done it now, Bernie.”

“What is it, Irv?” Bernie asked.

“Talked to a cow, that’s what!!”

“Talked to it, you say?”

Irving rubbed his temples between his fingers. “TALKED to it, Bern. You reckon IT was domesticated?”

“Reckon so. Moreover, I reckon it’s one that went up and came back down, if you catch my meanin’. They’ve got your number, now, for sure.”

Bernie grabbed something from a nearby shelf. “Here, put this on your head.”

“Well now. Isn’t that a – whadya call it – a colander?”

“It’s a telepathic communications deflector,” Bernie said, turning around again. “Now, these reflective panels go over your back and chest.”

“Bernie, I am almost certain them’s just cardboard cutouts with foil glued on.” Irving felt his mouth getting drier.

“Now, you’ll be wantin’ this shield for -,” Bernie continued.

“A hubcap?!” Irving blurted.

“Pay attention, Irving! Do NOT let them get inside your head. Get on home, and stay indoors. Mavis too. Leastwise ‘til tomorrow mornin’ after the purple moon’s gone. I ‘spect we’ll know one way or another by then.”

/--\---/--\

Irving’s heart was all aflutter as he dashed to his truck, cardboard, aluminum, and stainless steel bouncing and jangling. He drove 70 mph the whole way, adjusting his metal cap periodically and squinting against the sun’s red rays.

He was standing on his front porch, shining like a disco ball, when he had a startling realization. “I’ve forgotten the coffee,” he said aloud. The thought sobered him enough to make him feel ridiculous. He wrenched the colander from his head, sliding it beneath a small potted plant and lifted the reflective cardboard off, stuffing it beneath the cushions on the porch swing. The hubcap he frisbeed right over the porch rail into the yard.

The red sun was flashing at his back as he turned the door handle and slipped inside, locking it behind him. The wall clock read 8:35.

Mavis sat in her usual chair, knitting in her lap and a steaming cup beside her.

“You’ve got coffee,” he stated flatly.

“Mmhmm.”

“But we’re out,” he said. “I’ve just been to town and back. Helluva morning.” Irving ran a hand over his mostly bald head.

“Coffee was exactly where it always is. In the refrigerator,” she supplied at the exact moment Irving said:

“In the cupboard.”

Mavis raised her eyebrows at him. Irving shook his head as if the rattling of his brain would straighten it out. “Well, I’ll be,” he mumbled… “But Maeve, it’s been the oddest morning. Cows talking, red suns, hubcaps.” he fumbled.

Mavis smiled knowingly. “Have a cup of coffee, Irving. Then we’ll talk.”

Irving wanted to argue, but after all, ‘twas the want of a cup of Joe that started all this.

/--\---/--\

Three episodes of Gunsmoke later, Irving sipped on his second cup of coffee and glanced idly out the window to find the yellow sun shining merrily back at him.

“WELL, I’LL BE DAMNED!” he muttered.