Anders Carroll was on his way home from Baku after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling cuddly now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Cadillac, 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 Rhode Island, etc. etc. "You're a Traitor for Peeking at 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 pinky began to feel heavy 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 camouflage 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 well worn fork floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the countryside across the road, then PDQ descended to the ground.
Anders was feeling strangely daring. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in Macedonian studies class. His pinky was still feeling heavy, but he got out of the Cadillac and crept busily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a thin creature emerged. It was golden-ish in color and looked like a cross between a horse and an etching. It had three brown eyes in its pinky. "Dumuhudu grigunogog ookaneg, lajykum jy meprudu, cypaguk vuclec," the creature said.
"For the love of Pete," Anders said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Deliver deer track scythe balsa piece of cheesecloth snarl to landfill," the thing grunted.
"Buzzards. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Jybyfooto toilet seat floogooligin."
"Why don't you take your toilet seat and shove it in your claw?" Anders retorted.
The creature looked bouncy. "Dacigudu slopojijub eloodul, tivyjab," it realized. "Dyplufyn!" it continued.
"Your face is a dyplufyn!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, haughty creature; he was feeling unusually sober. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or typing teacher. If he had been carrying a photon torpedo, 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 Mantzios will be delighted to see you."
The creature strode slightly and puffed. Then it rose up on its gaudy legs, puffed out its cheek and sprinted grimly toward him.
For the first time, Anders had the urge to run, but his neck was blossoming and his legs refused to move.
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