- [Cut] will say a few words to you on the subject

How do you do ladies and gentlemen, this is a chain letter of thanks from a foreign agent, to be read after you have played The Sucker.

Now that Wallander's screaming fit is over let me tell you, you look pretty damn foolish. You're lucky that the vibrations from the siren didn't collapse the full place you took shelter in. And congratulations, [Cut] -er. Keep patrolling those reservoir so when the Russian bugs approach, switch to Calvert. Who am I, a secrеt agent from Calvert, no, Mars. I'm a martian who paid off Orson Wellеs for staging that other martian blip several years back. Our society is based on humor, we martians have to pull gags every so often in order to keep our jobs.

Well about the second invasion, I got Wailander to stage this one for a fancy price of course. He certainly put eight million of you in straight jackets and made you jump all the hurdles — A nasty mask but that's my job, anything for my job. The martian home office told me if I wanted to keep my job I had to turn eight million of you, that I'll blow, into lollipops. However, I got a compromise out of the chef, I got permission to turn you into suckers instead.

The job is done, thanks for your cooperation, but let me tell you a funny one. During the drill I got Stalin himself on the wire — I think he was watching the Wallander circus on television — and told him "I can't, I just exploded a big lie about you, you can't bomb New York even if you want to. I just paid off Wallander for doing the job." Instead of laughing, Stalin told me "Oh Mars, on Mars maybe it's funny, here on earth the whole damn thing is pathetic." Oh well, that's a Russian for you, but he doesn't pain me.

On Mars, we name places according to the level of inhabitants. Confidentially, this joint is designated as New Jerk, but now that joke is all over — my job is safe — I feel sort-of bad. It's seems to me now that Wally got a little too happy over hysteria, all I wanted was a bit of humor to hold a job, but Wally wants war. I may be martian, but I'm not a marshal. Hell no, I have a heart. Maybe I could turn my next gag against Wallander and company. If turning eight million New York suckers into suckers is so damn easy, it can't too hard turning civil defense into a big dud — that is if a few aware New Jerk-ens give me a hand. Think about it, I hear that a-lot of you boys went along with my hysteria gag because I had a job to be protectin' so don't judge my job humor too harshly. Suppose we raised New York above that civil defense level, I might get a promotion out of such a gag, and you might keep your peace of mind in the fact [Jump Cut] peace. Be a good citizen, and forward this chain letter, and beware: the Sirens

- You've been listening to the noted [?] Robert [?]