leave me alone, I'm reading

Somewhere buried deep in a box in my memory somewhere is a very -VERY- short story written by my Dad or my Mom or my sister, or someone (I know it was someone I know since in my mind's eye, the story I read was hand-written on one of those yellow stenographer pads) that goes something like this:

Two men in spacesuits hop out of their spacecraft.
"Do you really think there is intelligent life here?" asks one with a wondering voice.
"No. There is no intelligent life to be found here on Earth" says the other.

And that's it.

Yeah. That's what Wool is like. Except Wool adds a paragraph with a description, and then adds that when they get back into the spacecraft, they're headed back to Australia or something.

Worth the read, for sure.