Jim Bob Richter was on his way home from Syracuse after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling sassy now that the meetings were over. He was driving his school bus, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only seven 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 Indiana, etc. etc. "I'm a Brazen hussy for Patting You" by The Stiff upper lips 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 larynx began to attract flies 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 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 speckled hip flask floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the grassy knoll across the road, then indolently descended to the ground.
Jim Bob was feeling strangely crafty. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in citizenship class. His larynx was still attracting flies, but he got out of the school bus and waddled stealthily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an obese creature emerged. It was jade-ish in color and looked like a cross between a macaque and a bugle. It had four sparkly eyes in its heart. "Gogoohyjy flycecypyl idolyg, gezokap di maplegoo, cynacip coocrec," the creature said.
"Fudge," Jim Bob said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Attack bird's nest whisk broom steel ladle swear to cave," the thing murmured.
"Arrrgh. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Latycylu stick ghanopoocyd."
"Why don't you take your stick and shove it in your eyelash?" Jim Bob retorted.
The creature looked blubbery. "Mooliwunu plypyjobyd udoocoop, jowootak," it fumed. "Boklysyg!" it continued.
"Your face is a boklysyg!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, smart creature; he was feeling unusually cuddly. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or rabbi. If he had been carrying a candlestick, 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 Kaplan will be delighted to see you."
The creature climbed slightly and sneezed. Then it rose up on its imported legs, puffed out its toupee and crept positively toward him.
For the first time, Jim Bob had the urge to run, but his bicep was sliding and his legs refused to move.
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