Hillbilly 3000

Rusty sat under the cool shade of the porch, watching mechanical chickens clucking and poking around the yard. He grinned. Hell, some folk might think those chicks are tacky but they really add to the vibe of the place. Rusty slumped down in his chair and dialed in a beverage selection on the drink-materializer just within arm’s reach: Ultra-Bud Light 3000. He cracked open the titanium can and sipped on the cold suds. He smacked his lips and let out a long proud burp. The hot midday sun didn’t bother him much; he had his shade, his beer, his lovely mech-chickens, and a good old fashioned radio feeding him the latest stories.

...Breaking news...

Rusty twisted the dial up on the radio.

...Humanity has long scoured the farthest reaches of space in search of intelligent life. We’ve combed every nook and cranny. It's official folks, you heard it here first, there are no other lifeforms out there...

Rusty’s eyes stretched wide and he dropped the can of beer. He ran across the yard towards the spacecraft parked in the driveway, accidentally kicking a mech-chicken out of the way.

“Cletus! Cletus, dear god. They just announced there ain’t no aliens out there in the big yonder.” Rusty rested against the dome of the ship, gasping for air.

“Goddamn it, Rust. I ain’t got no time for some dumb ass alien stories.” Cletus floated out from underneath the spacecraft, suspended on a hoverboard.

“This is big news, Cletus, they been huntin’ for extraterrestrials for millennia now. Remember that Papa always thought that we were the only ones out here. And he was right, God rest his soul.” Rusty bowed his head.

Cletus flung a wrench at him. Rusty ducked out of the way.

“Who gives a shit about aliens when I can’t even get this hunk-a-junk flying. And my brother getting drunk and listening to that damn radio all day, won’t even lend a hand.”

“Why don’t we just trade this piece of crap in and get ourselves one of ‘em new 3000 models. Boy those things can fly.” Rusty let out a long whistle.

“You think we can afford that on our measly UBI? No sir. Now hand me that goddamn wrench.” Cletus nodded towards the wrench lying in the dirt.

Rusty bent down and scooped it up. He walked over to his brother. Cletus yanked the wrench out of his hand and floated back under the ship.

“No intelligent life, huh. They should send a probe down here and study my brother for signs of intelligent life,” Cletus muttered.

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