Grandma Jones (known locally as Grammie) and Grandpa Jones (aka: Grappie) were arguing about which of them had first seen a black and white Philco television set when the tremendous crash came from the attic. As one, they jumped, clutching their hearts. After this moment of shock, they rushed up to the attic to find out what had happened.
There, they found the glowing nose of what would, in the enquiry that followed, be positively identified as an American Cruise missile. Grammie cried out and fainted dead away. Grappie, who was every bit as frightened as Grammie, would have fainted dead away but Grammie had beaten him to it. He carried her down to the bedroom. No sooner had he laid her out than somebody knocked on the front door.
"Excuse me," the young man asked Grappie, "but, you wouldn't happen to have seen a rocket flying around out here, would you?"
Grappie, needing to release some tension, screamed at the man, an American military officer, for several minutes. The officer listened intently to everything he said, coming to the conclusion that a) yes, the missile had apparently crashed into the man's attic, and b) this wasn't a particularly good time to ask for it back. Excusing himself as best he could, the officer left.
Grammie, having recovered somewhat, made her way to Grappie, who was on the phone. "What are you doing?" she asked him.
"We've got to talk to the Premier about this!" Grappie shouted. "Unarmed missiles crashing into people's attics - the very idea!" Unfortunately, the Premier was out of the province (attending a Provincial Premier's conference on the Role of the Provinces in National Defense, even though it was generally acknowledged that the provinces had no role in national defense, so Grappie had to settle for a 15 minute harangue of a minor secretary in the Premier's office.
Grappie was in fine form, shouting rhetoric like: "I'll have you know that I didn't serve in the Great War just so some stupid maniac could crash a missile into my attic!" Although he would never know it, the official Canadian protest that was eventually delivered to the American government echoed his sentiments, if not his argumentative flair: "We cannot allow you to continue to threaten the safety of our people unless we have your assurance that the safety of our people is not threatened," the protest read.
Grammie and Grappie looked at each other. "Now, what should we do?" Grammie asked. "I'll bet the neighbours would pay money to see our missile," Grappie suggested. "Oh, no," Grammie insisted. "I'm not keeping a weapon of mass destruction in my attic!" Grappie thought for a moment. "It's not even armed..." he reminded her.
"I don't care," Grammie stated with finality. "It will set a bad example for the grandchildren. We have to get rid of it." Grappie thought once more. "There's not much I can do about it," Grappie finally said, "what with my back and all..."
Grammie told Grappie to tell the Americans to come and take it off the farm. As it turned out, the Americans were only too happy to take the missile off their hands. The General who came out to speak to Grammie and Grappie almost had them convinced, until he offered them $500 for their "troubles." Grappie realized that there might be big money to made from the incident (how right he was!) and kicked the General (only two stars) out of his house.
Reporters soon swarmed all over the site, taking pictures and asking all sorts of embarrassing, personal questions. "Are you going to stay in Alberta after the Americans settle?" (Could be.) "Have you had to make any adjustments since the incident?" (Yes. We sleep with extra blankets because the house is colder.) "How does it feel to have a Cruise missile crash into your attic? (Terrible.) The publicity culminated in the inevitable 20 minute feature segment on The Journal, with a very sympathetic Knowlton Nash talking about the trauma of having a missile crash into your attic.
In the meantime, the American military officer assigned to talking to the press spoke of "extraordinary, unaccountable premature touch-down," "possible computer disfunction and/or missed directions," and "the five minutes missing from the mission logs," in an attempt to convince the public that, in fact, it was part of the government's plan to have the missile crash into the attic of some poor farmer's house, and that, since the government had already learned all it needed to know from this incident, farmers could sleep soundly at night, secure in the knowledge that their attics would not be next.
Although reluctant to do so, Mr. and Mrs. Jones did allow the American government to take the missile away (on the advice of their lawyer, who, in the middle of a long trade, practically accused Grammie and Grappie of starting World War Three). In return, the American government agreed to pay the couple an undisclosed sum of money.
Grammie and Grappie were very happy. "Gee," Grappie told reporters before heading off into the sunset (in his new Porsche), "Who ever thought fighting the Cold War could be so rewarding?
Grammie, sitting next to him, smiled knowingly to herself.
