Spaced Invaders

Where is the admiral? He summoned us here.

The admiral's tour of duty has ended.

What of the admiral?

He has been subjected to disciplinary termination.

I have assumed command.

This battle group has consistently suffered

the greatest casualties of any attack force in the fleet.

His Imperial Majesty has sent me

to take control of our attack on the Arcturus system.

To insure our success, all ships

have been equipped with enforcer drones to remove

weak links in the command.

Any deviation from the invasion plan will result in disciplinary review.

Outrageous!

The tide of battle can change in seconds.

I'll not send my boys to Arcturus with

an enforcer drone breathing down my neck!

- I will! - Me, too. No problem.

Whoa!

- Good morning. - Morning.

Russell, anybody need a sheriff while I was gone?

Most folks don't know we've got one.

I like it. What are you up to?

I'm set up by the new off-ramp.

What for?

I'm gonna catch Big Bean's first speeder.

At least I know where to forward your Christmas present.

Ho-ho-ho.

- Excuse me! - You're excused.

What's the problem?

Nothing these two barrels can't solve.

Hold on a sec.

Why don't you give me the gun?

'Cause I'm a crazy old man.

I'm as likely to blow you out of your socks as give you the time of day.

What do you think of that?

It'd be a damn shame to shoot it out with you.

I suppose it would.

I was just gonna scare him.

You scared me.

Here.

What's going on with you and the farmer's trust?

This here is what's going on.

Look at it. Look there and there.

All right. Let me read it, okay?

Go ahead. Nobody can do anything about that, no way.

That's true.

- Clambaker! - That's Klembecker.

Steve W. Klembecker, president of the farmer's trust.

Farmer's trust! My Aunt Suzy's rear end!

One of the forward-thinking businessmen

who convinced the council we needed a new sheriff.

We never needed a sheriff until you showed up, you crook!

Hold it. Wait.

Did you send this letter?

I believe that's my signature right there.

I'm afraid the party's over?

The party's over. That's correct.

As per Mr. Wrenchmuller's loan agreement

the credit union has legal right to assume control

of the property tomorrow at noon.

Unless he can come up with the cash or a crop to sign over.

Nobody's got a crop.

There's nothing you can do with the property

- until next season anyway. - Sheriff Hoxley.

Sheriff Hoxley, you're new here.

Let me clue you in.

You see, we have direct highway access now

and the opportunity to turn this town into a metropolis.

unless you've got the money to pay off overdue loans

maybe you should stick to the kind of calls

we hired you to handle,

like keeping vagrants off the street.

If you would?

We'll deal with this in the morning

at the courthouse.

Come on, Mr. Wrenchmuller.

Aren't you kinda big for a boy scout?

I can take care of myself.

Happy Halloween, Big Bean.

The Arcturians have destroyed the fleet.

I've sent a distress signal

to all ships across the galaxy.

We're headed into their sun and are about to explode!

I have not yet begun to fight.

Now would be a great time to start!

How was school today?

Okay.

- How was sheriffing? - Okay.

You really don't like it here, do you, Kathy?

Everything was starting to get back to normal.

- Then we just decide to move. - It's a good job.

- There's nothing to do. - There's trick or treat.

You're sending me with kids I don't know.

Somebody's got to keep the streets safe.

From what? Cows?

Do we have any Krazy glue?

Um, I think it's in that box.

What's the matter?

Everyone's gonna show up dressed like scarecrows, pigs, and clowns and stuff.

So?

I'm not sure Big Bean is ready for aliens.

Achoo! Sorry about that folks.

This being Halloween night

I thought it'd be fun to dust off an old favorite

from the golden days of radio.

50 years ago tonight, Orson Welles

gave a depressed nation a few hours

of desperately needed fun.

Things being the way they are these days

we could sure use a little of that.

So, Big Bean

just for tonight

forget your woes and have a good time.

The Columbia Broadcasting System and its affiliated stations

present Orson Welles and the Mercury Theatre

in The War of the Worlds.

Ladies and gentlemen,

the director and star of these broadcasts, Orson Welles.

We know now in the early years of the 20th century

this world was being watched closely by intelligences

greater than man's, yet as mortal as his own.

We know that as humans busied themselves

about their various concerns

they were scrutinized and studied

perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope

might scrutinize the transient creatures

that swarm and multiply in a drop of water.

With infinite complacence

people went about their little affairs

serene in the assurance of their dominion

over this small, spinning fragment of solar driftwood

which by chance or design,

man has inherited out of the dark mystery of time and space.

Yet, across an immense ethereal gulf

minds that are to our minds

as ours are to the beasts in the jungle

intellects vast, cool and unsympathetic

regarded this Earth with envious eyes

and slowly and surely drew their plans against us.

Hey, I heard a distress signal.

Patrol ship X-5-9-Y-P-Q to Battle Group 7, come in.

It's like the fleet disappeared!

Maybe it's interference. Get us outta the rocks.

We're almost clear. Okay

hit it!

Ladies and gentlemen, I have a grave announcement.

Both the observations of science

and the evidence of our eyes

lead to the inescapable assumption

that those beings who landed in the Jersey Farmlands

are the vanguard of an invading army from Mars.

I remember when they first played that.

You remember pterodactyls.

I remember you fell for that hook, line, and sinker.

- I did not. - You did so.

You put a big bucket on your head

and took off with them army boys to fight Martians.

Ain't you dead yet?

Can't I stay with you and fight crime?

I'll see you at the Spookluck dinner.

Give us a kiss.

That's my girl.

I should have come as a wedge of cheese.

I'm probably the only alien for a billion miles.

Martians visible above treetops moving north.

Hi, Mom

Dad.

Welcome to another thrilling, true-life episode of

Russell Pillsbury, Deputy Sheriff.

I'm parked

by Big Bean's new off-ramp

and will soon be giving the city's first speeding ticket.

Who will be the lucky winner?

We gotta get us some money

or they're gonna kick us out of here.

Then we'll have to live with my sister Marge

and her poodle.

- Arf! - Yeah.

Why did I have to go and get old?

It's 8:15 P.M., October 31st.

I've just been alerted to a speed violation in progress.

Watch now as I teach this automotive scofflaw

a lesson in motor-vehicular responsibility.

Nobody gets away

with going 3,000 M.P.H. in a 55...

Don't s'pose we'll ever see a night quite like that again.

- Not likely. - Nope, nope.

I'll get the bucket.

Damn.

Termites are munching

on our barn.

We're gonna have to do something before they ruin it.

Come on, Jim.

Who taught you to drive, you moron!

Nice landing, Blaznee.

Are we there? Is this it?

Kids, 3-D and driving just don't mix.

Weicome to Earth. Enjoy it while it lasts.

Are you sure this is where the fleet is?