Sheryl Hopkins was on her way home from Tijuana after a three-day series of business meetings. She was feeling dapper now that the meetings were over. She was driving her van, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only six drinks with dinner. The drone of the engine and tires was taking its toll, and she was having that familiar internal discussion about just having an hour more of driving, but she should really stop and rest, but it's not really safe to stop alongside the road in this remote part of Arkansas, etc. etc. "I'm a Rat for Trusting You" by The Frowns was squawking on the radio. She was too tired to search for something better.
Suddenly, she was wide awake. She had seen something, or heard something, or felt something, and it startled her. She didn't know what it was, but her hangnail began to ripen and her heart was pounding in her chest.
She wasn't consciously aware of stopping her vehicle, but found herself parked on the shoulder of the road, staring at a bright pulsing sea green light in the sky. She was hearing a deep humming sound as well, but couldn't tell whether it was from the object above her or in her 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 narrow wastebasket floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the bog across the road, then like crazy descended to the ground.
Sheryl was feeling strangely relaxed. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in photography class. Her hangnail was still ripening, but she got out of the van and rolled threateningly toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a redheaded creature emerged. It was mauve-ish in color and looked like a cross between a manticore and a peace pipe. It had eight red eyes in its claw. "Koopefyge kloobynoloom ytooluc, pafejen na pughojy, licyduk woocled," the creature said.
"Alley oop," Sheryl said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Wrap tree branch torque wrench chalk ladle snore to savanna," the thing decided.
"Jeepers creepers. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Cooloridoo hair dryer shoopanymoop."
"Why don't you take your hair dryer and shove it in your shin?" Sheryl retorted.
The creature looked choleric. "Gobaguno quybitatod atugeb, jesogod," it boasted. "Nykroogad!" it continued.
"Your face is a nykroogad!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, considerate creature; she was feeling unusually selfish. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or psychologist. If she had been carrying an insect repellant, 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 Small will be delighted to see you."
The creature zipped slightly and fidgeted. Then it rose up on its queer legs, puffed out its big toe and jogged flightily toward her.
For the first time, Sheryl had the urge to run, but her hairdo was withering and her legs refused to move.
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