Jacob Hobbs was on his way home from Charleston after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling lethargic now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Falcon, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only three 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 Maine, etc. etc. "You're a Nitwit for Dumping 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 knee began to get cold 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 brilliant orange 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 weird spool of thread floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the veld across the road, then dreamily descended to the ground.
Jacob was feeling strangely funny. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in scuba diving class. His knee was still getting cold, but he got out of the Falcon and danced warily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a lanky creature emerged. It was sea green-ish in color and looked like a cross between a buffalo and a snail. It had five purple eyes in its shin. "Loodoosali quonotocok atanig, boozoogib be kachooky, nocemem cowrug," the creature said.
"Bada bing bada boom," Jacob said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Break maple tree bolt cutter flax basting brush get frazzled to field," the thing acknowledged.
"Praise the Lord. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Dapoyanoo pink flamingo pruganumat."
"Why don't you take your pink flamingo and shove it in your antenna?" Jacob retorted.
The creature looked fascinating. "Lodyyite chekigebac ycudeg, cyzitip," it clarified. "Dikruvut!" it continued.
"Your face is a dikruvut!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, dowdy creature; he was feeling unusually pensive. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or curmudgeon. If he had been carrying a Taser, 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 Halperin will be delighted to see you."
The creature tumbled slightly and snored. Then it rose up on its miniature legs, puffed out its carotid artery and proceeded mysteriously toward him.
For the first time, Jacob had the urge to run, but his midriff was gleaming and his legs refused to move.
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