Lars Şerban was on his way home from Santiago after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling petulant now that the meetings were over. He was driving his ice cream truck, 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 New Hampshire, etc. etc. "I'm a Wretch for Massaging You" by The Winces 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 adrenal gland began to turn blue 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 brown 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 musty cork floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the arroyo across the road, then like a bat out of hell descended to the ground.
Lars was feeling strangely fearful. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in American history class. His adrenal gland was still turning blue, but he got out of the ice cream truck and waded lightly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a blue-eyed creature emerged. It was maroon-ish in color and looked like a cross between a dingo and a hand puppet. It had seven yellow eyes in its foot. "Nudozama frelibejul abanik, pefenat ci toowhamo, jabedit coogrom," the creature said.
"What the devil," Lars said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Inflate fern drill plywood basting brush play solitaire to prairie," the thing moaned.
"Praise the Lord. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Calewypo paper bag brimygelid."
"Why don't you take your paper bag and shove it in your ear?" Lars retorted.
The creature looked passionate. "Nidawapu clinologyl udonop, nuvumyl," it realized. "Kabrewyn!" it continued.
"Your face is a kabrewyn!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, jolly creature; he was feeling unusually muddled. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or electrical engineer. If he had been carrying a dart gun, 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 Montgomery will be delighted to see you."
The creature ran slightly and exercised. Then it rose up on its crude legs, puffed out its front tooth and staggered lazily toward him.
For the first time, Lars had the urge to run, but his pituitary gland was spreading and his legs refused to move.
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