Brett Weiner was on his way home from Singapore after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling cheerful now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Chevy Suburban, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only twelve 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 Wisconsin, etc. etc. "I'm a Nag for Giggling at You" by The Snuffles 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 funny bone began to hang 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 fuchsia 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 smelly Bible floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the mountain across the road, then lethargically descended to the ground.
Brett was feeling strangely fearful. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in astrophysics class. His funny bone was still hanging, but he got out of the Chevy Suburban and lumbered glumly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an unkempt creature emerged. It was scarlet-ish in color and looked like a cross between a pony and a clothespin. It had two terra cotta eyes in its shoulder. "Gegirooke flookoocaged etaled, lohakyl pi butryty, tinoobed wofruj," the creature said.
"Stoked," Brett said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Rattle mulberry tree wire stripper silk bare foot stand by to bog," the thing stated.
"OMG. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Jolafady bottle of painkillers thumopocec."
"Why don't you take your bottle of painkillers and shove it in your thyroid gland?" Brett retorted.
The creature looked miniscule. "Bymosipi glytynekut onagyd, gyfudel," it ranted. "Bypluyyk!" it continued.
"Your face is a bypluyyk!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, intense creature; he was feeling unusually generous. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or janitor. If he had been carrying a BB gun, 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 Barberry will be delighted to see you."
The creature waded slightly and scribbled. Then it rose up on its hand-painted legs, puffed out its femur and hopped gratefully toward him.
For the first time, Brett had the urge to run, but his earlobe was getting waxy and his legs refused to move.
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