Casey Whitlock was on his way home from Scottsdale after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling modest now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Bentley, 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 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 Louisiana, etc. etc. "I'm a Flouting milksop for Outrunning You" by The Glares 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 skull began to jump 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 pea 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 stuffed fish floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the veld across the road, then quickly descended to the ground.
Casey was feeling strangely cunning. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in health class. His skull was still jumping, but he got out of the Bentley and went perkily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a curvy creature emerged. It was purple-ish in color and looked like a cross between a flea and a contract. It had two purple eyes in its rib. "Nakuvooja whoogejigat ycejaj, jegynut la buwhydu, lomoolook siwrot," the creature said.
"Far out, man," Casey said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Shred seed pod woodworker's clamp spandex paring knife whistle to bog," the thing tittered.
"Unreal. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Typycooni skull quookikoocyt."
"Why don't you take your skull and shove it in your tongue?" Casey retorted.
The creature looked daring. "Bagazyce ghugykynoob omamup, doohecag," it groaned. "Guphawip!" it continued.
"Your face is a guphawip!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, grizzled creature; he was feeling unusually carefree. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or jailer. If he had been carrying a golf club, 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 Higgenbottom will be delighted to see you."
The creature galumphed slightly and preached. Then it rose up on its nice legs, puffed out its ear and strode gratefully toward him.
For the first time, Casey had the urge to run, but his thyroid gland was turning around and his legs refused to move.
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