On Enasni, when delivered a telegram, it is considered exceptionally rude not to tip the messenger. So, I placed both my hands firmly on his shoulders and gave a good push. He rocked backward, almost falling over, and I could tell by his wide smile that he was pleased.

News of my pending departure swept through the village where I was staying. The town elders informed me that a feast was to be held in my honor the following day.

Having spent the night packing, I arose the following morning to find the air permeated with the aroma of Cassowary roasting on open spits in preparation for the feast. At the designated hour, I arrived at the central plaza to find it filled with festive happy faces both familiar and new.

Here again was the little green man, still carrying his confusing charts. Professor Aleks, always the conversationalist (and a bit of a drinker), was insistent that I answer a burning question before I departed. As I did not know the answer he kept asking it in several different ways, and would not change the subject until I promised to answer an entirely different question; such is his way.

Just before we began the ceremonial licking of the frogs, I was handed a letter sent by the former members of my team who had vanished in the mists of Mount z. It seems they left Enasni with their new spouses and are all now living in a suburb approximately 22 miles outside of Denver in new homes with attached garages, 3 bedrooms, 2.5 baths, and swimming pools. To assist their Ensani loved ones adjust to life on Earth, they have turned the swimming pools into classical Enasni tickle pits, which is sure to increase the value of their homes.

So we ate, and tickled, and chased frogs long into the night, and as the bell in the clock tower in the plaza struck 2:47:06, I knew it was time for me to go. Goodbye Ensani and thanks for all the fish.