The American farmer is the backbone of the nation, tilling the soil and feeding us all as he or she has for generations, steadfastly weathering the challenges of the seasons, able to stand up to harsh winters and blistering summers with equal courage. But are there are some things even the hardiest variety of farmer might not be able to handle? Let's find out!


What's that you say? A mysterious stranger arrives on my farm in a weird vehicle, dispensing gifts? And it's NOT the mailman delivering the regular farm subsidy? Now that is downright uncanny.


I'm just a simple farmer. I work from sunup to sundown, I don't hold with those new-fangled tractors, and everything's fine in my world except for my wife, who's always complaining about only having two hands.


Something about being city bred, coming out to the farm, thinking it was going to be all glowing tradwife Instagram photos of the perfect table setting filled with organically grown produce and ethically raised meat leading to lucrative endorsement deals, and then facing the reality of back-breaking, never-ending, day-in-and-day-out drudgery, well, it really made the little woman get obsessed with having six hands. Always talking about six hands. If I can ever get to town I'm gonna ask the doctor about it.


Glory be! Proof of the existence of extraterrestrial life AND a fat insurance payout on my barn!


I don't mind telling you that when I saw what I thought was Keith Richards stagger out of that barn, having crashed what I thought was the flying saucer we all know from all of Boston's album covers, well, I couldn't decide whether to get my shotgun or my autograph book.


Well, this fella didn't seem to be like any of the space aliens you see in the movies or in the regular newsletter I get from the Aerial Phenomena Research Organization. Maybe this one's not here for our natural resources or our women, maybe he just wants a shave and a hot meal, maybe a couple of bucks if I can spare it.


Don't stand there looking like that, Mamie! The stork finally brought us a baby and I don't care what he looks like, we're gonna love him just like he was one of our own! Or rather, we will, after this word from our sponsor!


That's right, invalids and other members of the disabled community - quit feeling sorry for yourself and get to work building yourself fantastic atomic powered replacement parts! Don't settle for anything less than total nuclear mobility!


You can run 200 miles an hour with just one atomic leg? What's that other leg doing, just dragging along there in the dust?


I don't wanna say criteria for promotion in the peacetime military is kind of bonkers, but this guy ran fast and lifted some things, and he's a major now? Come on.

So, let's get back to the farmer and the farmer's wife and their alien pal.


It's the first contact between humanity and life beyond the stars, changing forever our perspective on the universe itself and everything in it, and even it can't stop Mamie's six-hand wishing talk. That woman has problems!


"I will fix this creature you value... by the will of my mind... and never mind the amazing headache it's giving me, really, it's no bother."


Well, he fixed my cow, the only decent thing to do is to help him fix his space ship, which I'm sure as a farmer I can definitely do.


If you can't fix it with a crescent wrench and a crowbar, it ain't worth fixin', is what my grandpappy used to say, before he died in that explosion that happened just after he fixed the thresher.


Isn't that the worst part about travelling, remembering to bring along little gifts for your host and hostess? You can't hardly find a Stuckey's any more, they used to be our back up plan, everybody loves a pecan log, pretty sure there's no Stuckey's in space.


Well now, he found something to give us, and he gave it to Mamie! I sure hope that space alien has a smooth journey back to his home galaxy and that he hasn't implanted my wife with some sort of horrifying XTRO-type monster bound to erupt forth in a bloody explosion of terror that'll leave a trail of corpses in its wake. That would just be plumb awful.


Gosh, I wonder what that gift he gave Mamie could be? Maybe it involves something Mamie was always talking about, something she was always mentioning? Maybe... maybe it's a new stove? She was always talking about wanting a new stove, right?


Stopped dead in horror! Shocked beyond all comprehension at what the spaceman had given Mamie! At no point could I have put two and two and two together to come up with the answer to what this alien creature, who might not understand how Earth people say things that aren't meant to be taken literally, could have done to my wife that would be a response to something Mamie was always saying! I guess I'm kind of dim!


Well, there it is. Six hands. Hope you weren't TOO shocked. Look on the bright side Mamie, if they ever make a movie out of that insane adult novel about the subterranean lesbian S&M spider-woman that Bill Ward did illustrations for (look it up, if you aren't at work), you're locked into the starring role, and will finally get away from that farm!

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