Marty put a gnarled finger into his ear, hoping that perhaps a waxy buildup had impaired his hearing. “Say what?â€?

Shooting him an exasperated look, Charlie repeated himself. “Outer space, Marty. Is there an echo in here?â€?

“Oh no,â€? Marty replied, raising his scraggly white eyebrows. “I heard you just fine. And I knew you was a senile old bat, but this proves it.â€? Even as he said the words, Marty knew they rang untrue. A fire burned in Charlie’s eyes that Marty hadn’t seen in years; a fire with a definite spark of truth backed up by the alphabetically inclined amorphous blob. “And I’m just as crazy for not taking you to the loony bin right now.â€? It sounded weak and he knew it.

“You know those stories I used to tell you?â€?

“Those huge whoppers about space eggs and little orange men?â€?

“They weren’t whoppers,â€? Charlie said seriously.

“So what do we now?â€? Marty whispered, eyes wide.

A smile spread across Charlie’s face, teeth white against the shadow of stubble. “We find my elevator and save the world.â€?