I Dream of Jeannie

Ground Control, Jet Plate 1.

The aircraft's handling very well.

Circular thrust is okay,

but it's not up to what I expected.

The engineers have to correct that.

All right, we're going to try the vertical descent now

to check out the landing position.

Will confirm as soon as we're airborne again.

Jet Plate 1 over and out.

The interior cabin weight has increased by 109 pounds.

I won... I wonder what that means.

Huh? Let me check it out.

It means your scale is wrong, Major Healey.

I have never weighed more than 107 pounds

in my entire life.

Jeannie, what are you doing here?

This is a top secret flight.

I know, master, and you must keep up your strength.

I brought your lunch.

Would you please, Jeannie. Out.

It's peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Yeah, I don't care what it is. This is really important.

Now, you... Wait... Wait... Wait a minute!

What flavor jelly?

Roger, stop that. And you too, come on, get out.

Go on. Yeah.

Boy. Oh, boy, you were kind of tough on her.

She was only thinking of us.

Roger, when we get back to base I will personally buy you

a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

What flavor jelly?

Let's take her down, hm?

Hey, wait a minute.

This doesn't look like our touchdown point.

Huh?

You're right.

Jeannie's weight must have thrown us off course.

Let me check that.

All right, you take her down. I'll handle this.

Aye, aye, sir.

Here we go. All right.

Beautiful, Roge.

She handles like a dream.

Okay. Go.

All right, you Martians, up with your hands.

Martians?

Well, that's ridiculous. We're not Martians.

Eh!

Didn't expect you'd say you was,

even if-in you are.

Paw, they're funnier looking than I thought they'd be.

Martians?

It's the flight suits, Roger.

Take off the flight suits. Here, unzip...

I'm not taking my flight suit off in front of that girl.

Wait a minute.

Hey, look it, Paw, they're shedding their skin.

Well, I'll be.

Sam hill.

Um...

Well, see?

Back, critters.

Unless you want more holes in you

than a gopher field.

Oh, look, ma'am, I-I think you made a mistake.

Um, I'm Major Anthony Nelson and this is Major Roger Healey.

Eh, we're from Cocoa Beach.

Uh, uh, NASA.

Uh, we're astronauts.

What's an asternort, Paw?

I don't rightly know.

I reckon some special kind of Martian.

This one's kind of cute, Paw.

Can I keep him?

You get back here, girl.

You wanna get yourself corn-taminated?

You don't think they're gonna shoot us, do you?

No, of course not, Roger.

They're just simple country folk, Roger.

They're frightened.

I'll talk to 'em

in their own language. Yeah. Good.

Uh, now looky here, folks.

There ain't nothing to rightly be feared...

How do you say "help" in hillbilly?

"Help."

Help! Help! Help! Help!

Help! Help! Help! Help! Help! Help!

What are you gonna do with them, Paw?

Well, I don't rightly know, Daisy Lou.

First thing we gonna do is move 'em over to the house.

Okay, Martians, get moving.

What...? What's the second thing you're gonna do?

Well, now, that's the part I ain't decided on yet.

I reckon we'll either shoot you or hang you.

Git! Git!

Master.

Major Healey.

Hello. Have you seen two astronauts?

Aw, yep, uh... Paw's got 'em back to the house.

Oh, dear, I hope they aren't having lunch.

I don't reckon they are.

Hey, are you, uh...?

Are you an asternort too?

Oh, no.

I am a genie.

Oh, I'm right pleased to meet you, Miss Jeannie.

My name's Clem.

How do you do, Mr. Clem?

You're purty.

Quick too.

I would like to see the two astronauts, please.

If'n I let you see 'em,

then will you give me a kiss?

No, Mr. Clem, but I will give you

a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Okay, okay, just put that thing down, will you?

Get in there.

I don't want any nonsense outta you two.

You made your mind up yet, Paw?

Yeah, are you gonna hang 'em or shoot 'em?

How many times do I tell you? I'm not a Martian.

I-I was brought up in a farm. I know all about barns, I...

Hang 'em!

Why are you doing that, Mr. Clem?

You were going to take me to see the two astronauts.

Oh, well, I aim to, uh, Miss Jeannie.

I aim to, you see.

But, um, us mountain folks has, uh,

our own special way of doing things,

and, uh, well, it wouldn't be fitting

for me to take you over to see them fellas

without I first showed you some

old-fashioned mountain hospitality.

Is that what you were doing with them?

Oh, we sure are. Heh, heh.

Well, all right. I...

I do not wish to be impolite.

But... But can you show me this hospitality quickly?

Miss Jeannie,

I aim to be quicker than spit on the griddle.

Is this what you call hospitality?

Why, sure.

How about a little old-fashioned mountain-style bear hug?

Miss Jeannie! Miss Jeannie!

Wait a minute. Now, that's not what I meant.

I meant something entirely different.

There.

Reckon that ought to keep you Martians

from trying any more funny stuff.

What can we do to convince you

we're not Martians?

Could they be telling the truth, Paw?

Well, I reckon not,

but there ain't no real way of telling.

Say, that gives me an idea.

Do Martians have blood?

Of course not, Maw.

Everybody knows Martians ain't got no blood.

And if'n they do, it's green.

Well, then, all we got to do

is poke 'em a little with this,

and if they bleed red, they ain't Martian.

I'm a Martian, I'm a Martian. Martian. Martian.

There, you see, Paw? We got us a corn-fession. Heh-heh.

Now, all you got to do is decide whether you wanna hang 'em, or...

Or shoot 'em.

Will you stop ogling him, Daisy Lou?

But he's cute, Maw.

I'm gonna give you cute right up alongside your head.

We ain't having no mixed marriages in our family.

I say we should shoot 'em and be done with it.

I reckon you're right, Maw.

Oh, Paw, don't shoot 'em. Can't we keep 'em as pets?

I bet they'd pull a real good plow.

Daisy Lou, they is strangers.

And strangers mean trouble.

What if somebody was to find out about 'em?

They tell the government,

the government tell the revenuers,

the revenuers come poking around here and find our still.

Your Paw's right, Daisy Lou.

The only thing to do is shoot 'em.

Uh, ma'am, could I speak to you a moment, please?

Uh, I-I think I have a solution.

So have we.

Uh, but I think I can convince you that we're not Martians.

Oh, you can? Uh-huh.

Now, if you'll just call Cocoa Beach.

You call NASA at Cocoa Beach.

They'll be able to explain who we are.

Can't do that, son. And why not?

'Cause we ain't got a telephone.

Oh, yeah.