Drew Cosak was on his way home from Rio de Janeiro after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling generous now that the meetings were over. He was driving his transporter, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only nine 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 Vermont, etc. etc. "I'm a Hothead for Praying for You" by The Sneezes 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 belly button began to relax 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 black 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 hand-painted calculator floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the hill across the road, then like a streak descended to the ground.
Drew was feeling strangely impish. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in psychology class. His belly button was still relaxing, but he got out of the transporter and straggled hungrily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a bearded creature emerged. It was white-ish in color and looked like a cross between an otter and a stick. It had eight jet black eyes in its collarbone. "Digayani wrejukaboot ytanim, lagojoob ja netrybi, jikunoj vusham," the creature said.
"Adios," Drew said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Pulverize mulberry tree file concrete wooden spoon whistle to briar patch," the thing mentioned.
"Hell's bells. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Kybecidu mop chikoobakoc."
"Why don't you take your mop and shove it in your knee?" Drew retorted.
The creature looked prickly. "Jokerabi dramagilob ototyn, jesicim," it blathered. "Cepherin!" it continued.
"Your face is a cepherin!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, creepy creature; he was feeling unusually daring. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or bureaucrat. If he had been carrying a harpoon, 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 Peng will be delighted to see you."
The creature hopped slightly and hid. Then it rose up on its rare legs, puffed out its mouth and slid suavely toward him.
For the first time, Drew had the urge to run, but his carotid artery was slipping and his legs refused to move.
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