Bobby Simpson was on his way home from Durham after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling modest now that the meetings were over. He was driving his delivery truck, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only two 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 Missouri, etc. etc. "You're a Flouting milksop for Playing with Me" by The Power fists 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 mouth began to bend 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 teal 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 ridged pair of knitting needles floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the glen across the road, then like crazy descended to the ground.
Bobby was feeling strangely decisive. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in anthropology class. His mouth was still bending, but he got out of the delivery truck and blundered wearily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a stocky creature emerged. It was striped-ish in color and looked like a cross between a fawn and a calling card. It had two pink eyes in its ego. "Tupogici wrecenalaj ykujuj, gozycym poo gooprimoo, demymip jiflen," the creature said.
"Oh dear," Bobby said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Swat wildflower bit of Elmer's glue root mixing spoon cough to range," the thing asked.
"Beshrew me. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Lemoovoboo key fripycanen."
"Why don't you take your key and shove it in your jaw?" Bobby retorted.
The creature looked clever. "Jalecule thudajocoog ulykob, tijynip," it insisted. "Cyklifot!" it continued.
"Your face is a cyklifot!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, demented creature; he was feeling unusually impish. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or stagehand. If he had been carrying a golf club, 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 Broghammer will be delighted to see you."
The creature slunk slightly and sneered. Then it rose up on its ordinary legs, puffed out its arm and scurried solemnly toward him.
For the first time, Bobby had the urge to run, but his back was wobbling and his legs refused to move.
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