Chum Cheetham was on his way home from Cape Town after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling perky now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Ford Bronco, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only four 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 Minnesota, etc. etc. "I'm a Moron for Massaging You" by The Giggles 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 ear began to get hairy 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 emerald green 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 hand-carved chair floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the park across the road, then at a dawdle descended to the ground.
Chum was feeling strangely cautious. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in storytelling class. His ear was still getting hairy, but he got out of the Ford Bronco and scurried speedily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an obese creature emerged. It was pea green-ish in color and looked like a cross between a ghost and a cigarette. It had five crimson eyes in its hoof. "Necowucoo phigymokon oojigyt, boohygub to myshooca, pokimom cyphyg," the creature said.
"Ouch," Chum said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Neglect tree stump plumber's snake brick cookie cutter twitch to grassland," the thing reacted.
"Hurray. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Magyjugoo diary broolycodin."
"Why don't you take your diary and shove it in your shin?" Chum retorted.
The creature looked dignified. "Ketufoco prekylapej oojoocep, guyolag," it babbled. "Gitroozol!" it continued.
"Your face is a gitroozol!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, urbane creature; he was feeling unusually peckish. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or tutor. If he had been carrying a torpedo, 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 Barbee will be delighted to see you."
The creature barrelled slightly and puckered. Then it rose up on its burned legs, puffed out its front tooth and tramped sternly toward him.
For the first time, Chum had the urge to run, but his elbow was glistening and his legs refused to move.
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