Rufus Bates was on his way home from Baltimore after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling selfish now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Rolls-Royce Ghost, 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 Nebraska, etc. etc. "You're a Clodhopper for Remembering Me" by The Shouts 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 gut began to stick 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 amber 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 curved paper clip floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the range across the road, then heavily descended to the ground.
Rufus was feeling strangely self-confident. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in public relations class. His gut was still sticking, but he got out of the Rolls-Royce Ghost and jogged fearfully toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a homely creature emerged. It was green-ish in color and looked like a cross between a mole and a chart. It had three grey eyes in its fingernail. "Kedyjaco klycydupic edumec, loozetym bo nukroope, codelik fekraj," the creature said.
"Big whoop," Rufus said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Attack feather power washer pipe sharp knife bawl to battlefield," the thing guessed.
"Get outta here. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Nakicicoo hair brush shigajikec."
"Why don't you take your hair brush and shove it in your hand?" Rufus retorted.
The creature looked amiable. "Nutujace dricikaloon ajoomik, joohonog," it stated. "Dibreyyj!" it continued.
"Your face is a dibreyyj!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, pesky creature; he was feeling unusually distressed. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or bicycle messenger. If he had been carrying a lasso, 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 Sitting Bird will be delighted to see you."
The creature traipsed slightly and fantasized. Then it rose up on its ragged legs, puffed out its belly and breezed tensely toward him.
For the first time, Rufus had the urge to run, but his buttocks was petrifying and his legs refused to move.
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