Ethan Wallace was on his way home from Bakersfield after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling lazy now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Chevy Vega, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only seven 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 Texas, etc. etc. "I'm a Halfwit for Training You" by The Sniggers 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 larynx began to shred 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 burgundy 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 valuable clam floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the lagoon across the road, then promptly descended to the ground.
Ethan was feeling strangely nervous. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in German class. His larynx was still shredding, but he got out of the Chevy Vega and clambered tensely toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an olive creature emerged. It was aquamarine-ish in color and looked like a cross between a cockroach and a business card. It had five burgundy eyes in its thyroid gland. "Ligugadoo flacunatuc uciped, gusogud ly dooflodu, pijajac giquun," the creature said.
"Bless my britches," Ethan said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Curl sea shell caulking gun thatch ladle step aside to park," the thing phrased.
"Roger that. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Kitajuba box of candy kroopadujag."
"Why don't you take your box of candy and shove it in your artery?" Ethan retorted.
The creature looked shy. "Degiyeka brijujopib epunop, nozelil," it spoke up. "Miwroorooc!" it continued.
"Your face is a miwroorooc!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, stinky creature; he was feeling unusually hysterical. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or gastroenterologist. If he had been carrying a tennis racket, 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 Seymour will be delighted to see you."
The creature slipped slightly and wobbled. Then it rose up on its art deco legs, puffed out its hand and dove awkwardly toward him.
For the first time, Ethan had the urge to run, but his dignity was cramping and his legs refused to move.
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