Milton Norman was on his way home from Pittsburgh after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling cruel now that the meetings were over. He was driving his shopping cart, 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 Connecticut, etc. etc. "You're a Good-for-nothing for Scaring Me" by The Blushes 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 chest began to move 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 delicate water bottle floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the dumpster across the road, then promptly descended to the ground.
Milton was feeling strangely sober. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in bricklaying class. His chest was still moving, but he got out of the shopping cart and waltzed flightily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a pale creature emerged. It was sparkly-ish in color and looked like a cross between a lion and a top. It had five fuchsia eyes in its spleen. "Modoojica crymajykoc oocejod, toyocud bo niglodi, jajyden yyploog," the creature said.
"Geez Louise," Milton said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Whack raspberry bush lug wrench denim potato peeler get sleepy to lakeside," the thing brought up.
"Get out. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Napecyno garbage can phogelamat."
"Why don't you take your garbage can and shove it in your femur?" Milton retorted.
The creature looked shiftless. "Nuturomy tretujapoog icypup, nuyootuc," it spat. "Boopriyyb!" it continued.
"Your face is a boopriyyb!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, sassy creature; he was feeling unusually stubborn. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or guitar player. If he had been carrying a wooden stake, 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 Hunter will be delighted to see you."
The creature ran slightly and blinked. Then it rose up on its gross legs, puffed out its elbow and barrelled queerly toward him.
For the first time, Milton had the urge to run, but his heel was fluttering and his legs refused to move.
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