Winston already regretted writing the damn UFO story. But even more, he regretted that he had sent it out on the wire. Not only were all the local whackos calling him about mysterious lights in the sky, but fruits and nuts from all across the entire country were phoning in wanting to know more about Nell Fleck’s encounter. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he listened to someone who had identified herself as the president of the Universal Association of Interplanetary Travelers from Mars, Pennsylvania, ask whether the alien visitors had been Antareans or Xacknons.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know the difference, Ms. um, Lightbeam did you say?”

“Yes, Lightbeam. That’s not by original name, of course,” the throaty voice said on the other end of the line. “That was the name given to me by the Xacknons when they came to visit me.”

“Well, thank you for calling,” Winston said in hopes of cutting off any further explanation of why creatures from some other galaxy had navigated across billions of light years simply to drop in on the sly and visit the odd citizen of a backwater planet.

“It’s simple, really, to distinguish the two species, you know,” the voice went on. “The Xacknons are tall, well-muscled, handsome in an alien sort of way, and very gentle. Almost hunkish, if you catch my drift. And they are the mortal enemies of the Antareans, those brutish, ugly thugs. They’re out to conquer the universe, you know.”

“I was unaware of that fact,” Winston said.

“Oh, yes. The Xacknons told me all about it. They’re the only ones standing in the way of universal subjugation by the Antareans. Why, even as we speak, an Antarean battle fleet could be zooming our way.”

“That’s very interesting, Ms., uh, Lightyear. I’ll have to make sure my phasers are fully charged. Thank you for calling.” He didn’t wait for an answer as he hung up the phone. He sunk his head into his hands and closed his eyes against the pain that was starting to throb in the front of his head.