Beam Me Down, Scotty

The operation
had to be precise,

there could be
no screw-up,

Rey warned everyone.
The moment was at hand,

everything depended
on split-second timing,

it was like splitting hairs
or building

the Pyramid of the Sun
on the head of a needle.

The lid slide off
the sarcophagus

as the crew
pushed with all their might.

Transporter tech
Ensign Eddie Corral

was sweating profusely
as he stood by

the transporter levers.
Suddenly he plunged

the levers forward
to beam the Martian

down to D.C., (Hay les va, cabrones!)
a poetically justified smile

swept over his face
and over the face

of the others.
Mission accomplished, pal.

With high fives
all over the place,

they tossed
their space sombreros

into the manufactured air
of the S.S. Anzaldua.

Cacophonous alarms
startled everyone

back to reality.
Missiles were approaching.

Cheech And Chong’s Nice Dreams

The Martian slept
peacefully,

unaware
it would take part

in Montezuma’s Revenge.
(Noshit!)

The Martian dreamt
beautiful dreams---

for the moons of Mars
always have that effect

even on non-Martians.
The hum

of the ship motors
was loud

in the cargo hold.
The darkness and cold

exchanged molecules
like wedding vows.

The Martian stirred
and unstirred.

Earth’s moon
almost head-on.

The S.S. Gloria Anzaldua
rattles imperceptibly

as it slows down
into solid space.

We Be Trippin’

Once it was decided
to deliver the Martian to earth,

excitement raged
among the crew.

Do not believe
what they say

about the emptiness
of space.

Space, amigos,
is full of space.

Don’t laugh
until you’ve experienced

it yourself.
The plan

was to go
into stealth mode

once they got
close to earth

so as not
to alert earth’s defenses.

Once in orbit
they would beam down

the Martian
to Washington D. C.

Casually, during breakfast,
Captain Copasllenas

asked nonchalantly,
(Chale, I didn’t

just use the word "nonchalantly",
did I?”

“ I hope this mission
does not bother my conscience,”

said Copasllenas as she poked at her migas
with a piece of tortilla.

“After what
those people,

and I use
the word liberally,

after what
those people

have done
to the Mexican race,

I will not lose
any sleep over it!”

said Isidra
as they sped

at warp speed
towards the blue

and white marble
which had

once been
their home.

Flor Y Canto

As soon as they
pulled away from Mars,

Rey called everybody together
on the bridge.

“Camaradas, I have
an idea I want

to put before you.”
Everyone looked quizzically at Rey

as he elaborated.
“Instead of taking

the Martian to Phobos,
I propose that

we take our Martian friend
to earth.”

Everyone’s eyes opened wide
with surprise,

and smiles broke out
contagious

and pleasantly cruel
almost.

Soon everyone was cheering
and agreeing

that this indeed
should be done.

Lola Copasllenas
told her navigator,

“Set course for earth.”
she ordered

Corporal Juan Phil Felipe.
“Right away, Commandante!”

as he saluted
and punched the numbers

into the computer.
“ Warp speed, Commandante?”

“ Yes, Corporal, warp speed.”
said Copasllenas.

The star field
looked like a Flor Y Canto.

Stand by Me from theRedPillRadio on Vimeo.

Where No Mexican Has Gone Before

The plan was to
beam the Martian

aboard the S.S. Gloria Anzaldua
and beam it down

to Phobos---the ancient Martian
artificial satellite which had no

natural resources.
Lola Copasllenas

had volunteered
for the dangerous mission position.

Lupito also volunteered
as well as Rey and Isidra.

The ship would have
to be operated

by a small crew,
(as luck would have it

Mexicans are already small)
in case the Martian

woke up
in a bad mood.

You movie goers
know what an alien

can do
when let loose

on a space ship.
No, you Tea Party bozos,

we’re not talking
about illegal aliens.

Don’t you cagados
remember

you sent us packing
to Mars?

Once the Martian
was beamed aboard,

the S.S. Anzaldua
headed out on impulse power.

The brave crew felt
as if an asteroid belt

was tightening pecs
around their necks.

Los Real Burros Of The Martian Hills

“I have a plan, babe,”
Rey told Isidra.

“ Call the lab,
have them send over

a couple of jackasses,
a couple of burros.”

It took
about three hours,

but soon the burros
were hooked up

to the sarcophagus.
“Andale, andale!”

Rey yelled
at the burros

as he whipped
their space-suited asses

with stone-tipped Mariachi belt.
The burros

seemed to look
at each other

and hee hawed
“Who the hell

does this culero
think he is?”

After much labor,
the sarcophagus

reached the red surface.
Now to see if

the plan
would work.

Isidra’s nervous smile
was reflected

against the shield
of her helmet.

Power Outage

Isidra and Rey and
the others

had heard
the Martian’s hollow footsteps,

her breathing,
they could almost hear

hear heartbeat.
They hid in the shadows,

they adjusted the controls
on their space suits

so that the exhalators
(which recycled air)

kept the rushing air noise
to a minimum.

The Martian lay down
in its sarcophagus.

She seemed to fall
into a deep, cold sleep.

Rey and the strongest
of the technicians

pushed the lid
until they had

sealed the Martian
in her bed.

They hoped
to use the crane

to get the trapped Martian
to the surface.

Half way up
with their Martian cargo,

the damn power went out.
Isidra used

her aluristo
to hurriedly call the lab.

“Power is out
all over the planet!”

was the response.
“You’d think

we were back in Mejico!”,
said Isidra,hechando madres.

Maintaining reliable power
had always been a problem

even for the original
gringo scientists.

The angry red planet
could be a cabrón.

And I Have Miles To Go Before I Sleep

The Martian was tired
after all the exertion

of trekking to the lab and back.
It did not understand

these strangers.
They did not appear

to fear her,
she could not understand

how they stood there
motionless. (Pendeja, they’re dead!)

But right now
she must get back

to her sanctuary.
She must rest.

Her body was screaming
for rest,

her minds
were not thinking clearly.

She must lie down,
she descended redly

to what she thought
would be

the safety
of her lair.

Dog

The dog comes
on little cat feet.

He sits overlooking
the barrio,
defeated and sad---
chi hua hua.

Haciendo Caras

While you guys were twittering
or haciendo caras

on Facebook,
the Mexicans on Mars

were busy concocting
a plan

to get rid
of the Martian

once and for all.
As luck would have it,

the S.S. Gloria Anzaldua
commanded by Lola Copasllenas

was in stationary orbit
a hundred and sixty miles

above the face on Mars,
and it would play

a vital part
in Isidra’s plan

which had gone off
in her head

like a lightbulb
or an orgasm.

The Martian herself,
unbeknownst to her,

was lending
a helping hand.

She was making
a beeline for the Face.

Her multiple minds churning
like an asteroid belt.

Discarded Lady Gaga costumes
seemingly choking

each and every
spiky neuron in her thighs.

It’s A Dog Eat Dog World

Chela and the kids
boarded the last train

to Clarksville,
no, no, pendejos,

(the things
I call myself!),

actually, they boarded
the U.S.S. Ricardo Sanchez,

which was carrying
the last load of Mexicans

from the earth’s moon
to their future homeland

on Mars.
The kids followed Pepe the dog

around with
a pooper scooper.

Pepe looked out
every window

of the spaceship.
He wagged his tail,

and the dizzy fleas.
The earth’s blue marble

meant nothing to him.
White people

did not mean anything
to him.

He did not understand
the word racism.

He thought everybody
and everything was just another dog.

Aztec Sacrifice

Isidra figured
that the Martian

had not be able
to escape its sarcophagus

for a hundred million years
except with the aid

of Isidra’s own
tempering,

maybe they could
somehow get the Marian

back into its sarcophagus.
It was worth a shot heard round Mars.

That way they could
forego

trying to make
a sarcophagic replica

back at the lab,
since no one knew

what the Martian
would do next.

But, how would they get
the Martian back

down into the Face.
There would have to be

some kind of Aztec sacrifice.
You know,

in these situations
someone’s always gotta die.

Chico, little did they know
that the Martian

was, even now,
(as I make this up)

already heading
towards the Face on Mars.

Flor Silvestre

She called Rey
on her aluristo

and told him
to meet her

at the Face on Mars
complex.

She gathered
six scientists

and explained
her plan to them.

They seemed skeptical,
but what else

could they do.
Death was not an option.

They worked diligently,
but always alert

to the fear that the Martian
would return to her lair.

For three days
they analyzed the material.

It turned out
to be organic.

They all
looked at each other

in amazement.
Yes, yes,

we can reproduce this
Isidra smiled at Rey.

How quickly,
asked Rey?

Pronto, muy pronto,
said Isidra,

the echo
in her earpiece

brought her
back to stark reality.

The Best Laid Plans Of Mice
And Mexikans

Luckily for the
Mexicans on Mars

most of the main
communities

were located on the
other side of the planet.

Still, the lab
was a sitting duck

for the Martian.
As Isidra watched

on the security cameras,
the Martian

inadvertently killed
the council members.

A proverbial light bulb
went off in Isdra’s head.

She remembered the pristine
material that the Martian’s

sarcophagus
or sepulcher was made of,

or whatever the hell
the Martian’s resting place was called.

She remembered
that the technicians

had said
it was impenetrable.

She thought,
if we can reproduce

this material
maybe we can confine

the Martian
until we can

figure out
what to do with it.

The Thing

One second the security cameras
showed the Martian

resting peacefully
against the wall

of the entry way,
next second she was gone,

“poof” like an
Oliver de la Paz poem.

The Martian was
nowhere, man.

Suddenly, she was standing,
standing arms akimbo right there,

facing the Security Council
members,

stood there motionless,
fear and terror

gripping the council members,
(contrary to popular belief,

fear and terror
are not the same thing.

Fear, apparently,
has one more electron

than terror,
though most of us

would have bet
our Arizona beachfront properties

that it was terror
which had the extra electron).

Actually, the council members
were frozen stiff, dead stiff,

since the Martian’s
intrusion into the chambers

had allowed the
three hundred below zero temps

on Mars
to enter unimpeded.

The emergency system
had closed all air-tight doors,

but there were
no doors

where the Martian
had broken thru.

Pura Leche

Isidra had been
in her quarters

when the attack
on the lab occurred.

She called Rey
on his aluristo.

No answer.
She called a friend

on the Council.
They told her

Rey was ok,
but that Beatriz

and Mariano
had been killed.

She felt so bad,
yet so happy

that Rey was alive, and she was
overwhelmed by guilty pleasure.

Octavio Paws
was purring at her feet.

She gave him
a bowl of milk.

Why can’t Mexicans
have nine lives, Isidra cried.

She turned the bra cups
to the front.

She wanted to go
to the cafeteria,

and look outside,
but of course

the titanium shutters
had been rolled down.

Hell, it’s the same old
angry red planet,

she said out loud
as she bent over

to pet Octavio Paws,
who was embroiled

in his own labyrinth
of milk mustaches.

Raza Cosmica

The Martian,
unaware of its mejicanida,

has horrible dreams
of jaguars

as it sleeps
against a wall,

pyramids startle her
into a deeper sleep,

her haven,
her long sleep

inside the Face
has blown wide open

as if a hurtling rock
from space has demanded space.

Where do these creatures
come from,

from what wayward moons?
She can not see

her connections to them.
She does not know

they are
her descendants.
----------------------------

New Ernest Hogan short story
online here.

Ernest Hogan blog here.

The Great Escape

Rey had no idea
how he had managed

to crawl into the vent
which routed cables

and wires from who knew where.
He remained quiet,

afraid the Martian
could hear him.

After an hour,
he decided to follow the vent

wherever it might lead,
preferably to safety.

Indeed, the vent
led to the library.

He kicked out the vent guard,
jumped down

and hurried to
the control center.

The Council members
were still in shock,

and considering
their next move.

Apparently Rey
and the techs

had fixed the
security cameras

just before
they were attacked.

The Martian was sitting
with her back against a wall.

She seemed at peace,
but inside of her

methane words
were being

put together
and taken apart

for a purpose
which was not evident

on the monitors
in the control room.