The Purple Pariah

It was round and purple and awfully, awfully sad. And it told the most melancholy story Archie Simms had ever heard. Yup, 'twas a real million-year tragedy, this tale of the purple pariah.
The rocket ship whirled down from the sky and crashed into the hillside. A cloud of dust rose lazily from the spot and mingled with the white fumes escaping from the vessel.
The escape hatch opened and Archie Simms jumped down to the surface of the planet.
Oh-oh, Ed—here's the welcoming committee! he yelled. Ed Bailey's face appeared in the doorway.
The two men stared grimly at a motionless purple sphere, about eight feet in diameter, that rested fifty feet from the damaged rocket. On the surface of the sphere were two huge, sad eyes that watched the rocket ship with melancholy attention.
What is it? asked Ed Bailey.
Damned if I know, snorted Archie Simms. He ambled toward the purple sphere. Shoo, he said. Go on, get out of here. Shoo! The purple sphere did not move, but its two huge eyes regarded him sadly.
Hey, don't get too close to it.
Don't worry. Archie procured a rock from the ground and hurled it at the purple sphere. He missed; the eyes of the sphere contemplated him even more sadly. The sphere did not move.
Should I fire the cannon at it? queried Ed.
Leave it alone. It just wants to sit there and watch us. He walked up to the purple sphere and examined it closely. He petted it between its two huge eyes and it looked at him sadly.
Ed jumped down from the ship with a large book under one arm. He paged hurriedly through it. Archie ran his hand gently over the purple sphere's fur. The purple sphere eyed him sadly.