The dead were up and dancing before the saucers ever showed.
That's the part the newsreel left out. It was a jamboree — the whole boneyard swinging, a skeleton on the fiddle, a lady in her burial best doing a step nobody had done since the Wilson administration, and everybody having the time of their afterlives.
Then the sky went green.
Down they came in threes, humming a note that got into your fillings, and the rays came on, and — here's the thing — the dancing did not stop. Not one of them broke rhythm. A gentleman got hauled up off the grass mid-twirl and kept twirling all the way into the hatch.
The saucers stayed nine minutes. When they left, the band was still playing.
Some parties you just can't invade.
