Aliens in America Part 2 of 5
I parked my car on Front Street and walked three short blocks east on Broadway, past the Commercial Bar, the JL Wright Trading Post, the American Legion Bar, until I spotted Betsy’s Kitchen on Spruce Street, directly across the street from the Mint Bar, and ducked into Betsy’s for lunch.
I sat at the counter to see out the window facing Broadway and watched three clumps of three to five teen-age kids shuffle by while I ate my, shockingly good Cheeseburger, and drank my Coke. ‘Summer vacation and nothing to do.’ I was wrong.
If anyone was hip to any Aliens From Outer Space Happenings in and surrounding Tiny Townsend I figured most likely would be these kids. These poor kids from the poor side of a poor town. The girls had dirty hair and some of the boys untied shoes.
I paid my lunch check, walked out the door, turned right, and walked straight toward a sidewalk clump of five of these kids: Townsend’s Future. I smiled like I was in on the joke and started talking to them.
This Tiny Townsend Town Gang of Five (TTG5; their Tag.) were fast thinkers deducing instantly and silently among themselves that I was not a Run-Of-The-Mill-Out-Of-Town-Tweaker looking to score fast and cheap. Or worse, some nosey-assed State Narc working desperately and impotently to control, Montana’s in general, and Townsend’s in particular, exploding Methamphetamine epidemic.
After discussing what I sought, not that I wanted their Product but in doing so get them to talk, the six of us walked ten minutes and stopped in shadows beneath the tallest structure in Tiny Townsend. I bought three grams and I steered our conversation to what I wanted: Local Extraterrestrials, about Aliens from Outer Space.
The leader of the TTG5, a short girl with dark teeth, confirmed what SETI had only suspected: that yes, there were, like, hundreds of ‘Outer Space Peoples’ living in the heavily forested mountains inside the geographic triangle formed by Helena, Townsend, and Butte, and that they had been doing so undisturbed, “Like forever man. But, like fuck, everybody’s alien in this town dude.”
“Who do ya think cooks the best shit around here dude? It’s them Aliens and they only talk to kids like us. No old person over nineteen can even see them. Hey dude we gotta split. Appreciate your business. There’s a shack just nine miles east of here, just off the road, where you can sleep tonight if you need a place.”
This vital and useful info imparted generously to me by TTG5’s Leader Apparent, the short girl with the dark teeth and the constant smirk.
I didn’t but figured, ‘What the hell?’
We said goodbye, I walked back to my Jeep, and drove back west toward this ‘Shack’. It began to rain.
Aliens in America Part 3/5 posts in 2 days, please tune in.
Report and Photo Documentation by Roger Hilleboe, aka #Iconoclast00