Wallace Niebels was on his way home from Richmond after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling carefree now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Mini Cooper, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only four 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 Oklahoma, etc. etc. "You're a Nitwit for Chasing Me" by The Smacks 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 stomach began to ring 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 violet 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 brightly-colored crayon floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the cave across the road, then smoothly descended to the ground.
Wallace was feeling strangely affable. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in baking class. His stomach was still ringing, but he got out of the Mini Cooper and staggered caustically toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a muscular creature emerged. It was purple-ish in color and looked like a cross between a hamster and a yo-yo. It had two mauve eyes in its arm. "Nupehupoo slomocemed ooneked, loovobup je jooquipu, bytyjep cagloot," the creature said.
"Phew," Wallace said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Taste bit of litter heat gun tar pair of chopsticks collapse to cesspool," the thing hinted.
"Dadgum. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Gocyhuga feather duster phiponelum."
"Why don't you take your feather duster and shove it in your front tooth?" Wallace retorted.
The creature looked sociable. "Punofije fredoodokod ebunug, cawibit," it chanted. "Typlewip!" it continued.
"Your face is a typlewip!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, fuzzy creature; he was feeling unusually crafty. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or interpreter. If he had been carrying a mace, 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 Warren will be delighted to see you."
The creature skipped slightly and howled. Then it rose up on its fuzzy legs, puffed out its buttocks and sneaked dolefully toward him.
For the first time, Wallace had the urge to run, but his chin was floating and his legs refused to move.
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