The Martians Did It

Another story .......... just for the hallibut.


“The Martians Did It!”

By Kim Falk

Originally Written 1983
Revised March 16, 2002


H. G. Wells’ “War of the Worlds” told the tale of the invasion of the Earth by large, malicious, technologically-advanced Martians. A frightening story to read although we are comforted by the knowledge that it is only fiction. I, however, have seen real Martians. I have watched as they persistently invaded a classroom in my high school. They were not large, nor were they malicious, but their numbers caused a great disruption in the everyday activities of my English class for several months.

It all began in “Stalag 206” one winter morning. Stalag 206 was how the students referred to our English class. That morning I was being verbally lashed by the “Kommandant” for doodling when he believed I should have been mesmerized by his disjointed ravings at the front of the room. I had been drawing a series of small, oblong creatures whose two skinny legs and bony knees protruded down from directly beneath the tiny body. The body itself was dominated by two huge friendly eyes which completely dwarfed the two tiny nose holes and the little smiling mouth. Two antennae, which protruded from the top of the head and bent towards the sides of the body like two elongated, backwards parenthesis, completed the picture.

The teacher looked over my “Martians” briefly and made some rather cruel statements concerning their appearance, parentage, and reason for existence. I felt sorry for the poor little things. They had certainly done nothing to warrant such harsh treatment. I decided right there that the Martians were entitled to some small measure of retribution.

A few weeks later, after allowing our beloved teacher’s mind to wander far from his recollection of the Martians, the attack began. I had carefully created ten “life-size” Martians and, just prior to class, placed them strategically around the classroom. The “Beast of 206” stormed in at the bell to start class. By the time class was over, as was the plan, he had been completely frustrated by the discovery, every few minutes, of another small smiling creature. I was genuinely amused by the many and groundless threats of violence he uttered towards his unknown assailant. This was fun! I quickly decided a “second wave” was in order.

One week later our Kommandant’s ire was raised, once again, to the boiling point as he stumbled through another class discovering the twenty-five Martians who had come to visit. The threats of violence now began to include not just the unknown trickster, but the trickster’s parents and any possible relatives, living or dead.
I waited a month before the next attack. It was a rapid one-two punch that left him breathless. First, he was surrounded by fifty tiny, smiling Martians. Then, a few days later, before he could fully recover, he came into class to find it nearly wallpapered by over one-hundred smiling little faces. He seemed particularly perturbed by the plaid ones. The epithets screamed at the class by the madman with the red, contorted face convinced me that he was near the breaking point. The Martians were near victory in this war, and I needed to help them post the win. All they needed was one carefully planned final assault. An attack so devastating that the revenge of the Martians would be complete. I had a plan … it would just take a little time.

Exactly two weeks later, on a bright sunny December day, I walked into school carrying a large manila envelope. It was time. Everything would have to go perfectly if what I had planned were to work.

I entered the classroom quite early so that I would have the time, and the privacy, to set up for the assault. I opened the envelope and carefully began placing the two-hundred fifty, brightly colored, full-size, smiling little Martians around the room. It took a while to get the job done, but the effect was startling. Anyone entering the room would find themselves stared at from every possible nook and cranny. I had even found a way to slip a few through the cracks into his locked desk drawers. I then pulled one last Martian from the envelope. This Martian was huge. The poster board he was on measured twenty-four inches square and he filled every inch. This was the “King Martian.” Complete with crown, robe and scepter he was a regal sight to behold. I carefully smoothed him out and taped him onto the small blackboard on the rear wall of the classroom. This gave the effect of all the other Martians facing him as his loyal subjects.

At this point a few of the other students began arriving for class. The stunned looks and giddy smiles as they entered that Martian “Wonderland” told me I had done well.

Enlisting the aid of several other students, I finished the scene. Carefully, we turned all of the students’ desks around to face the back of the room where the “King” presided over his motley court. I then instructed everyone to turn the desks upside down and for every student to sit in the opening created by the desk legs which, to be perfectly clear, were now all pointing up in the general direction of Mars. The final coaching was completed only moments before the Kommandant arrived.

The angry look of stunned horror on his face as he entered the throne room that used to be his classroom put victory within easy reach. He was livid! He had trouble breathing he was so angry and flustered. Finally, after several minutes of struggling to regain some semblance of composure, he managed to blurt out, “What the Hell is going on here?” To answer him, the entire class turned to look at him and began chanting in unison, “The Martians did it! The Martians did it!”
He gasped. He growled. He made genuinely ridiculous noises as he tried in vain to find any words at all. It was of no use, however, and he stormed speechlessly out of the room. My Martians had had their revenge.

The teacher was so flustered by the whole affair that he did not return to class for three days. When he did return, he acted much more pleasantly and significantly more human. We were all amazed that the Principal or one of his assistants hadn’t come down to see the spectacle and punish us all. They must have thought he needed it as much as we did. Anyway, the plan was a success and the Martians and their King returned back to their home planet victorious and happy. It was a great and wonderful occasion.

Still. I wonder, though. What I could have done with Venusians.