'Battle: Teeny Town, Massachusetts' - a Humerous View of Alien Invasion

What happens in "Battle: Los Angeles" could happen anywhere. Well it could. Come on, people. The movie, due to release Friday, finds LA the battleground when aliens invade our precious Earth. After viewing the trailer, I pondered what it might be like here in my little corner of the world during an alien conquest. Check out my version of "Battle: Teeny Town, Massachusetts."

Are you Prepared?

It is highly unlikely that in my small Massachusetts town, officials are prepared in any way for an alien invasion. I cannot get past the scenario unfolding something like this:

Not a Good Day for an Invasion

It is early morning. I lounge in my jammies. I have bed head, but I don't care. Leisurely, I allow my brain to awaken with the help of a steaming cup of chai latte tea.

I scroll through my e-mail. My husband thinks chai latte is for sissies. He glugs straight-up black Kona coffee, and watches "The Three Stooges."

I notice a breaking alert e-mail from the Washington Post. I click it open. As I scan the e-mail, I mutter to my husband, "Honey, I don't know if we will be watching football today--the Washington Post is reporting an alien invasion underway."

"There's a mass of meteor shower thingys that look weird. The Marines are coming, too." "Figures--it is my only day off." The antics of Moe, Larry, and Curly, drown me out. I head to the den.

"Did you not hear me say we are under an alien attack?" My husband acknowledges he heard me. Obviously, ticked about the prospect of no football, he is edgy. He says, "Well, get dressed -- when will they be here?" I am confused. "When will who be here?"

Gotta Get to the Shelter

My husband, who is focused on the Stooges, replies, "When will the a-l-i-e-n-s be here?" I wrestle the remote from his death grip. The Stooges fade to black. I grit my teeth. I say calmly, "We have to go to the town shelter."

While hurrying to my bedroom for clothes, my husband hollers, "Um--hate to break it to ya, but we don't have a shelter. They got that artsy fartsy new school they wanted, though. No one has ever had their priorities straight in this town."

Teeny Town Emergency Website

I race back to the computer. Excitedly, I tell my husband, "I just remembered the selectmen set up a 24-hour emergency website a few months ago. Everyone in town is probably trying to log-on for information, but I'll try."

Finally, after 13.5 agonizing minutes, the emergency website comes to life on my screen. No, the site is not over capacity with worried town folk; it is my lousy dial-up connection. My hand shakes as I click "enter."

I read the message aloud: "Due to budget cuts, this website is closed on weekends. If there is an emergency in Teeny Town -- such as an alien invasion -- please, do not even think about using our new school for shelter." Great.

What's that Noise?

From outside, I hear something loud, noisy, and frightening. Like big machinery. It is making its way up my country road. In a panic, I run to the window. I whisper, "Oh, snap... please do not be aliens."

My husband is already at the window. He has replaced his Kona coffee with a brew. I give him the look of death. He ignores me. I secretly wish I had some wine. That led me to think about hunky Marines. Never mind.

"Why are you drinking beer?" "You realize the alien attack is about to commence, right?" "I sure as heck don't need you getting beer-buzzed-belligerent on me or the aliens."

In my usual fashion, I go on to say, "I still haven't forgotten the brouhaha at that concert at Fenway Park five years ago, mister." "You are covered with cat fur by the way." My husband downs the beer. He continues to ignore me.

Overtime and Storm Drains

We peer out the window. In unison we say, "What the heck?" The noise we heard up at the road is the town's only backhoe, followed by the town's only dump truck.

We watch as two town workers proceed to clean out the storm drain at the bottom of the hill that sits across the road. Constantly clogged, it seems odd that the drain suddenly takes priority. The road has been flooding for years because of the debris buildup.

My eyes never stray from the ridiculous scene outside. I am appalled about the drain cleaning. "Are you kidding me?" My husband looks at me as if I have ten heads. He is surprised that I am surprised. "Why are you acting so stunned?" he asks.

"You know it is Sunday. Duh... that means overtime." He adds, "Nothing says "welcome" like a clean storm drain when aliens come to call." That makes me laugh.

Beer, Love and Cat Fur

I snuggle up to my brawny husband. I tell him sincerely, "I love you." He snuggles back. "I love you, too." "Want a beer while we wait for the alien invasion?"

I do not hesitate to respond. "Sure... that would be great." "Bring the lint roller, too. That cat fur on your shirt is making me nuts."

Source:

Yahoo! Movies - "Battle: Los Angeles"