Roswell 1947 14" Beaker BongA creature emerges slowly, injured and trepidatious. The hot ground singes its skinny limbs as it crawls away from the burning wreckage. A crackle in the desert blue sky is nothing more than a blip to the untrained eye, but Mac has worked this ranch his whole long life. He knows that summers in Roswell are always the same: hot, bleak, dry; he has looked out on that blue and white sky day after day, and never has he seen such a thing. He makes his way