The chances of anything coming from Mars were the same as the richest nation in the world electing a buffoon to the rather important position of being the President. Those chances were equally matched by the sight that greeted Duke as he rounded the bend in the road. They were also matched by the thing, that looked like a cigar, which was parked a number of miles above them.
If the recently deceased Santa suddenly appeared overhead on his intercontinental-sleigh, Duke could have not been more surprised.
Why a small mule would cause so much surprise, he did not really know.
Add to that, the sight of Noel kneeling before a young woman who looked like she was ready to burst (his colloquial term for heavily pregnant) and another guy who looked like he could have maybe been the father, and the donkey (it was not a small mule) and Duke thought that he was getting de ja vu all over again.
Noel looked up in preparation for greeting Duke. The greeting didn’t come. Noel’s gaze quickly moved to a area above the tree-lined horizon. Then he pointed, shouted, and looked nothing like the composed Noel of late.
“Choppers,” he managed.
Duke’s dread turned him to face the same direction only in order for it to assure him of the mistake the little guy had made.
“Choppers,” Noel insisted.
Duke finally understood. The little guy was seeing things again and, when the little guy saw things, it was a good idea to take notice.
Duke moved towards the trinity and the little mule. The young woman who had been on the ground was now starting to rise with the help of both Noel and the father-looking dude. Even though the danger was imminent, he couldn’t help thinking that this was one of the most peaceful things he had ever seen.