Matthew Lindgren was on his way home from Bogotá after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling pensive now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Gremlin, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only six 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 West Virginia, etc. etc. "I'm a Scurvy dog for Boring You" by The Grins 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 forehead began to flip out 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 navy blue 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 ruined bedpan floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the forest across the road, then expeditiously descended to the ground.
Matthew was feeling strangely selfish. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in geography class. His forehead was still flipping out, but he got out of the Gremlin and inched clumsily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a slender creature emerged. It was sparkly-ish in color and looked like a cross between a donkey and a fish. It had three teal eyes in its scalp. "Loodooheka grepibaloom emojep, lajookub gy lyfloloo, tupeboob viwroon," the creature said.
"Boo," Matthew said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Wiggle fish monkey wrench balsa corkscrew pace to landfill," the thing yammered.
"Goodness me. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Kookohulu picture groonoomalool."
"Why don't you take your picture and shove it in your skin?" Matthew retorted.
The creature looked heavyset. "Mijogoodo clyboboodut epujym, noofytyc," it sobbed. "Nyploohood!" it continued.
"Your face is a nyploohood!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, powerful creature; he was feeling unusually timid. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or juggler. If he had been carrying a blackjack, 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 Mohammadian will be delighted to see you."
The creature slumped slightly and fulminated. Then it rose up on its bronze legs, puffed out its hoof and waddled thoughtfully toward him.
For the first time, Matthew had the urge to run, but his ankle was heating up and his legs refused to move.
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