The markers have been set on the front lawn at the exact longitude and latitude you transmitted. I could not get any uranium, so I used the most toxic substance I could find: Kellogg's Corn Pops.

            I’ve also had the post office stop my mail indefinitely. I canceled my subscriptions to TV Guide, Entertainment Weekly, The Weekly World News and Jughead Comics. But I have enough back issues to read on the flight.

            One of my U.F.O. magazines says that when you travel very fast in space and come home again, you’ll be the same age, but everybody else will be much older. That means all the girls who turned me down in high school will have daughters my age. And I bet they’d be interested in dating me since I’d have been to outer space and all.

            Ma will probably be very old when I get back. I hope the neighbors look in on her. She doesn’t require much. Just tea and grapefruit in the morning with her news radio, a tuna fish sandwich and grapes with her afternoon soaps, and a nice stew with her evening television shows. Maybe you could leave a sentry here to take care of that stuff for her. That would be great.

            I haven’t told ma anything. She probably won’t notice I’m gone. I spent that weekend at the crop circles and she thought I was in my room the whole time. And she didn’t even touch the stew I left on the stove for her. Too bad the roaches got at it.

            Speaking of roaches, I hope your race is not descended from giant roaches or any kind of insect. They give me the willies. Also, if you are planning to impregnate me by laying eggs in my brain or stomach, I’d rather you not. I don’t think I’d make a very good father. I can’t even take care of those plants in my room. And the farm hasn’t been doing very good since daddy died.

            Maybe you can use a rejuvenation ray on the farm before we leave. That way, ma will not have to worry about money while I’m off running around the galaxy. She’d have to hire a farm hand or something. Hey, maybe you can use the rejuvenation ray on her as well. She used to be a great cow milker in her time. Dad said he married her because of the way she could work an utter.

            Will there be milk on your spacecraft? I hope so. I’m bringing some Ring Dings for a snack because I figure the tin foil wrapping will protect them from any cosmic rays we may encounter.

            I’m really excited to see outer space. My teachers said I would never go anywhere, so won’t they be surprised when they hear I’m eight million light years away. I won’t miss them, or all the guys in town who make fun of me for only having one pair of overalls. Guess I’ll miss ma. But I won’t miss the farm. I hate getting up with the roosters and bailing the hay.

            I hope you will contact me soon and let me know when your mother ship will arrive. Granted, it’s been a year since our first contact. Lucky I was up on the roof during the lightning storm, trying to get the antenna in the right position so ma could see Wheel of Fortune. Who woulda thunk the bolt would strike the antenna and not the lightning rod.

            But I know now that it wasn’t lightning, it was your probe. You gave me those instructions. I’ve followed them to the letter since the day I got out of that coma. Every night I wait up on the roof with my old Care Bears lunch box filled with Ring Dings and comic books. I hope you pick me up soon.

            The crows are eating all the Corn Pops.

Tom Misuraca studied Writing, Publishing and Literature at Emerson College in Boston before moving to Los Angeles. Over 80 of his short stories and two novels have been published. Most recently, his story, Wash Away was published in Every Day Fiction. He is also a multi-award winning playwright with over 100 shot plays and 9 full-lengths produced globally. His musical, Geeks!, ran Off-Broadway this Spring.