Martian V.F.W. | Page 2

the National Academy of Sciences?"
"I believe it was a Mr. Canfield."
Mr. Cruthers' face lit up. "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place! I'd have placed you right away."
"That's perfectly all right, Mr. Cruthers."
"Listen, I don't know what you guys do but those costumes should certainly bring the house down. There's going to be four million people watching this parade. I bet that's the biggest audience you've ever seen."
"It certainly is." With that the ant strode away.
"Good luck!" Mr. Cruthers shouted after him.
* * * * *
"Daddy! Daddy, look! Look at the big rocket!" The little boy jumped up and down gleefully. "It must be a whole mile long, Daddy! What kind is it?"
"That's the Vanguard, son."
An autumn breeze from the East River chilled their vantage point at Sixty-First Street and Fifth Avenue.
"The Vanguard?" The name meant nothing to the boy. "Gee, I'll bet it can fly all the way to the stars!"
"It's the rocket that carried the first artificial satellite into space."
The parade, now three hours old, continued past the reviewing stand.
"I wanna get a better look at the Vanguard!" the boy shouted.
The father lifted the boy onto his shoulders. The little fellow laughed and whooped it up, firing several shots from his Captain Video Ray gun at the passing missile.
The rocket moved on and the noise of the crowd diminished slightly.
A one-hundred piece brass band was passing in front of them. They were playing "The Stars and Stripes Forever." They were followed by the Sak's Fifth Avenue display; nine small floats, each depicting life on another planet. The National Academy of Sciences had a success on its hands.
"Wow! Daddy, I wanna ride on it! I wanna ride on that float and visit all those planets! Can I, Daddy!" The boy became all limbs trying to squirm down from his father's shoulders.
"You stay right where you are, young man," the father struggled to hold his balance.
"But I wanna go to the stars. I can watch the rest of the parade from Venus or Mercury! Please, Daddy!"
The father grinned. "Not just yet, son, but it won't be long before man will go to the stars."
"Who lives up there, Daddy?"
"Oh, there isn't any life up there yet."
"If no one's living up there why does anyone want to go there?"
"Well, maybe there'll be too many people on earth someday and then we'll have to find other planets with more room."
Another monstrous brass band was going by. The boy became restless. He began to toy with his ray gun, half interested in seeing if there were any sparks left in it. "Why can't there be something besides so many bands in a parade? I wanna see another float."
The father tried to interest the boy by pointing out all the famous people who were also there: a variety of statesmen the world's leading scientists and religious and cultural leaders, the president of the United States.
* * * * *
The boy was interested but not in what his elder was saying to him. He was looking downtown, his eyes squinting, trying to make out figures as far away as Fifty-sixth Street. Then his mouth opened, not uttering a sound yet, just waiting to burst with joy at what was coming toward them.
His father looked up at him. "I wish you'd tell me what you are looking at. I'm all the way down here on street level, remember?"
"Daddy, they look like ants!"
"What?"
"Ants, Daddy, ants! A whole army of them. Ain't it exciting?"
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"They're doing somersaults and back flips and everything! They're coming right this way! Gee, there's hundreds of them. And they got a float behind them, Daddy! A great big float with something burning on it."
The child sitting on his shoulders made mobility impossible for the father. And he couldn't see around the spectators. He resigned himself to stand and wait for this new spectacle to overtake them. The reaction to this new sight had already begun to work its way uptown. In the distance, but getting closer every second, he could hear unrestrained laughter and rejoicing.
"Hey, take it easy!" The boy was beginning to ride the shoulders like a bronco buster. "By the time they get here I won't have any shoulders left. Where are they now?"
"They're almost here, Daddy! And they aren't ants at all. They're just a bunch of clowns dressed up like it." He began to giggle hysterically. "Golly, they're funny. Can you see them yet, Daddy?"
Before the father could produce an answer the ants were in view. They were a sight that couldn't fail to stimulate the funny bone. By comparison with real ants everything about them had been grossly exaggerated to achieve the proper effect. They walked on their two back legs but the four front apertures were far from idle. Some