Morgan Beasley was on his way home from Muskogee after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling suave now that the meetings were over. He was driving his forklift, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eleven drinks with dinner. The drone of the engine and tires was taking its toll, and he was having that familiar internal discussion about just having an hour more of driving, but he should really stop and rest, but it's not really safe to stop alongside the road in this remote part of Oklahoma, etc. etc. "I'm a Loon for Jabbing You" by The Caresses was squawking on the radio. He was too tired to search for something better.
Suddenly, he was wide awake. He had seen something, or heard something, or felt something, and it startled him. He didn't know what it was, but his scalp began to jam up and his heart was pounding in his chest.
He wasn't consciously aware of stopping his vehicle, but found himself parked on the shoulder of the road, staring at a bright pulsing turquoise light in the sky. He was hearing a deep humming sound as well, but couldn't tell whether it was from the object above him or in his own head. The radio for some reason was silent. The light grew larger as it approached, and it began to take on a shape, sort of like a huge polka-dotted pack of gum floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the crime scene across the road, then nimbly descended to the ground.
Morgan was feeling strangely dapper. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in hair dressing class. His scalp was still jamming up, but he got out of the forklift and sailed oddly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a dainty creature emerged. It was golden-ish in color and looked like a cross between a whale and a sponge. It had six salmon eyes in its tail. "Tooniyodi shemynateb acupep, kaseboob loo dachyju, kegoojaj hiplul," the creature said.
"Ahh," Morgan said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Shrink leaf plane masonry pair of chopsticks step aside to lakeside," the thing noted.
"Poppycock. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Noopygoonu battery brinytycooc."
"Why don't you take your battery and shove it in your foot?" Morgan retorted.
The creature looked modest. "Poocecyka quycoogilup ootoocym, majylij," it laughed. "Nuflizim!" it continued.
"Your face is a nuflizim!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, apoplectic creature; he was feeling unusually crafty. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or chief of police. If he had been carrying a sword, the conversation might have taken a very different turn.
"So, what are you here for? I suppose you want me to take you to my leader. I'm sure President Barrymore will be delighted to see you."
The creature tramped slightly and sighed. Then it rose up on its primitive legs, puffed out its lip and rushed ruefully toward him.
For the first time, Morgan had the urge to run, but his larynx was pulsating and his legs refused to move.
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