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Big Brown Bear’s troop scouted the field behind the Range Café.
“Whew!” exclaimed Willie, “Don’t you Yanks believe in traffic calmings? A bear could get flattened just crossing the street around here. I do believe that driver was aiming at us.”
“That’s just typical New Mexico driving—now keep looking,” replied Blue Man Bear. “Our alien friend says the mothership is not much bigger than the space pod because of its extra-dimensional interior. Supposed to look like a ‘torus’, whatever that is.”
“A torus is a donut shape,” explained Big Brown Bear. “Something with a hole inside it. Gussie Bear, climb up there and see if you can get a better view.”
Gussie’s Bear scrambled up on top of the old tire next to her. From that vantage she could only see dried tumble mustard and cracked mud all the way to the far fenceline.
“Nothing,” she called down. “Not a thing bigger than a beer can all the way to that fence over there.”
“Ahem,” came a polite turtle voice from below. “Congratulations, I think you’ve found it.”
Gussie Bear looked down at Terrance, who had just walked up. Then she turned around and looked at the big hole in the middle of the “old tire” she was standing on. It wasn’t really made of rubber after all.
“I found it!” she cried as she hopped down into the middle of the “tire.” In a blink she vanished before she reached the ground.