"Wintry February night, the present. Order of events: a phone call from a frightened woman notating the arrival of an unidentified flying object, and the check-out you've just witnessed with two state troopers verifying the event, but with nothing more enlightening to add beyond evidence of some tracks leading across the highway to a diner. You've heard of trying to find a needle in a haystack? Well, stay with us now and you'll be a part of an investigating team whose mission is not to find that proverbial needle, no, their task is even harder. They've got to find a Martian in a diner, and in just a moment you'll search with them, because you've just landed in the Twilight Zone."
Troopers follow the tracks from a frozen pond, into a diner. Inside they find a soda jerk, a bus driver and his seven passengers. The bus driver is certain only six people boarded his bus. There's two married couples, a businessman, a dancer and an eccentric old man. The troopers give up the investigation when a call comes through that the bridge is safe now, and the bus may continue on. Later, the businessman returns to the diner. The bridge really wasn't safe, the call was an illusion. He is the Martian, advance scout for an invasion force. He proceeds to drink a cup of coffee and smoke a cigarette, using all three of his arms. The soda jerk tells him that he's a Venusian, and that his invasion force has intercepted the Martian fleet. Grinning, he removes his cap, revealing a third eye."Incident on a small island, to be believed or disbelieved. However, if a sour-faced dandy named Ross or a big, good-natured counterman who handles a spatula as if he'd been born with one in his mouth, if either of these two entities walks onto your premises, you'd better hold their hands - all three of them - or check the color of their eyes - all three of them. The gentleman in question might try to pull you into... the Twilight Zone."