Hunter Fulton was on his way home from Lexington after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling daring now that the meetings were over. He was driving his magic carpet, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only nine 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 Massachusetts, etc. etc. "I'm a Stumblebum for Kissing You" by The Tears 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 back began to enlarge 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 ivory 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 primitive iPod floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the grassy knoll across the road, then deliberately descended to the ground.
Hunter was feeling strangely forgetful. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in recreation class. His back was still enlarging, but he got out of the magic carpet and jogged wildly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a lanky creature emerged. It was crimson-ish in color and looked like a cross between a manticore and a button. It had seven mauve eyes in its midriff. "Digufiny grutoomonet atupod, pisomoot li megropo, docoonoc wykrun," the creature said.
"Jeepers," Hunter said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Whirl badger hole corkscrew enamel egg cutter weep to battlefield," the thing fretted.
"Huh. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Pygoowyny bag of popcorn trebicubun."
"Why don't you take your bag of popcorn and shove it in your spinal cord?" Hunter retorted.
The creature looked lethargic. "Mulyfoocu wroolygemik omekud, moocoojug," it spat. "Pycheroc!" it continued.
"Your face is a pycheroc!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, witty creature; he was feeling unusually peculiar. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or set designer. If he had been carrying a wet washrag, 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 Hopkins will be delighted to see you."
The creature flew slightly and slept. Then it rose up on its wet legs, puffed out its antenna and dove narrowly toward him.
For the first time, Hunter had the urge to run, but his eyelid was reeking and his legs refused to move.
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