Them Buttons

Mah 'ol hound dog, Biff, was barkin' up a storm. Not a real storm, mind you, 'cause he ain't got that kinda power. Unlike mah girlfriend, Lizzie-Ann, who has all sorts of superpowers. Her best one is freezin' a man in place with her stink-eye.

At any rate, Biff took up a-howlin' so I stepped out on the porch only ta be sucked up by one hellishish of a bright light. Next thing I knows, I'm in a room fulla buttons. Not the kind you wear, mind you, but the kind you push.

Them buttons was all over the walls. There was hunderds of 'em. Millions, even! Weren't hardly a bare spot ta be seen 'round'em. Bein' a curious sort of feller, I reached out and pressed me one of them buttons. The thang glowed bright red under mah hand before disappearin' into the wall.

All a-sudden, I hear this buzzin'. I turn 'round and find myself face-to-face with a bee the size of mah head. Not the insect, mind you, but the letter. It flew at mah face like a wild thang until, using me smarts, I figured I could scare it away with a few choice bee words.

Shore enough, the epithets made the bee burst into flames. It curled in on itself and dee-sintigreated into a pile a ashes at mah feet.

The next button was a piece a cake. Not a real slice, mind you, though I coulda used a big 'ol chunk of German chocolate at that time. The button disappeared just like the first and out popped a bear. It started a-growlin' and a-snarlin' and I just laughed. I wrastle a bear a week, so this feller weren't no problem. I got him in a good headlock until he cried uncle and then let him scurry off to lick his wounds.

They say third time's the charm. I ain't never seen that there charm, mind you, so someone might be fibbin' 'bout that. I smashed another button and whirled 'round to see what was comin' next. I was hopin' fer another bear to wrastle but this time all I got was a bee-autiful woman claimin' I was the father of her son.

Well, shoot, I ain't the kinda feller that knocks such a fine lady up and then leaves her in a bind, so I told her I'd marry her and we'd raise the boy together. While it made me a mite sad to hafta let mah girl Lizzie-Ann down, I figured, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do!

Well, Miss. Beauty's jaw drops, she shakes her head, and, "poof!", she's gone! I guess that means she don't wanna get hitched. So I'm back with Lizzie-Ann again.

About this time I was gettin' a bit miffed with all them buttons. It suddenly hits me like a bag 'o nails. Not real nails, mind you. That would be mighty painful. Naw, I recollect that I've got mah gun in mah holster. So I sling out the iron and start shootin' at them blasted buttons.

That musta been the last straw for them aliens. Not real straw, mind you, 'cause I don't think they have sech foliage on the planet Blarb. But they'd had enough of my tom-foolery. Next thing I knows, I'm outside that there room and -sittin' in this pub with you, sharin' a fine pint a ale.

Turns out, them buttons was a test of mankind's brains, brawn, and moral fortitude. Yes, siree! A good 'ol southern boy saved the world from a alien invasion, I tell you what. And it's back to the drawin' board for them there aliens. Not a real board, mind you…