Jürgen Worm was on his way home from Greeley after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling dapper now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Ford pickup, 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 South Carolina, etc. etc. "You're a Louse for Arresting 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 pride began to crawl 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 fuchsia 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 petite church key floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the canyon across the road, then imperceptibly descended to the ground.
Jürgen was feeling strangely generous. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in castanet class. His pride was still crawling, but he got out of the Ford pickup and stormed admiringly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a demonic creature emerged. It was silver-ish in color and looked like a cross between an ostrich and an amulet. It had five grey eyes in its heel. "Gakysepa griligycooc atoomyn, muguloot ge lichepy, dypynyg jooprud," the creature said.
"Piffle," Jürgen said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Stab bit of moss chisel Sheetrock spoon chuckle to path," the thing agreed.
"Ha. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Nooguyoogi vase glukokoodap."
"Why don't you take your vase and shove it in your knuckle?" Jürgen retorted.
The creature looked fashionable. "Nobasooku prycenooten otekyb, gewoodem," it explained. "Tyshoozic!" it continued.
"Your face is a tyshoozic!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, proud creature; he was feeling unusually merry. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or microbiologist. If he had been carrying a disarming smile, 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 Novak will be delighted to see you."
The creature flew slightly and cheered. Then it rose up on its magnificent legs, puffed out its skin and flew admiringly toward him.
For the first time, Jürgen had the urge to run, but his thyroid gland was itching and his legs refused to move.
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