Jim Vidmar was on his way home from Hong Kong after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling affable now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Oldsmobile Cutlass, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eight 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 Puerto Rico, etc. etc. "You're a Poopyhead for Aggravating Me" by The Beams 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 hand began to stiffen 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 mauve 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 odd pigeon floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the country meadow across the road, then quietly descended to the ground.
Jim was feeling strangely tipsy. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in philosophy class. His hand was still stiffening, but he got out of the Oldsmobile Cutlass and sallied forth tensely toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a beautiful creature emerged. It was hot pink-ish in color and looked like a cross between a sheep and a trash can. It had two lime-green eyes in its palm. "Jidoogagu crotoonoolim ootogoon, tevapoog mo dywroopu, nypiboj jichen," the creature said.
"Great Scott," Jim said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Strike fern bit of Elmer's glue buffalo hide slotted spoon weep to cornfield," the thing continued.
"Hee haw. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Molesepy boomerang thookanutup."
"Why don't you take your boomerang and shove it in your lip?" Jim retorted.
The creature looked sloppy. "Koolacita klutupoolud itagep, tujopooc," it demanded. "Lyphivib!" it continued.
"Your face is a lyphivib!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, merry creature; he was feeling unusually shy. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or telephone repairman. If he had been carrying a dirt clod, 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 Bundy will be delighted to see you."
The creature jumped slightly and coughed. Then it rose up on its prickly legs, puffed out its adrenal gland and waddled demurely toward him.
For the first time, Jim had the urge to run, but his chest was slipping and his legs refused to move.
Next Chapter