David Fry's home was a Spanish-style ranch which consisted of a herd of cattle and horses.
The Martians looked like us except they had no necks and no finger or toe nails. Their leader was a giant of a Martian with the name, Dooma. They wore slacks and sport jackets which Fry had bought for them. They seemed pleasant enough.
I got some sleep and woke that afternoon. Dooma, Fry, and myself sat in the front room and talked over the story we were to do.
"We can't trust anyone," Fry said, "so you and I will play the earthlings in it. We'll land on Mars and discover life on the planet. Dooma and his crew will play the Martians. Real type casting."
"What about sets?" I asked.
"Plenty of background on Mars," Dooma said.
"What?" I exploded.
"Sure," Fry said. "We'll go to Mars and shoot most of the picture there. Has anyone ever done that before?"
"Sure," Dooma said.