Jackson Bowe was on his way home from Addis Ababa after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling ambitious now that the meetings were over. He was driving his panel truck, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only two 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 Maine, etc. etc. "You're a Rogue for Caring for Me" by The Pound of the chests 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 hand began to feel funny 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 orange 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 rusty cookbook floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the jungle across the road, then smoothly descended to the ground.
Jackson was feeling strangely carefree. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in physiology class. His hand was still feeling funny, but he got out of the panel truck and blundered quietly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a roly-poly creature emerged. It was indigo-ish in color and looked like a cross between an ass and a vacuum cleaner. It had four mauve eyes in its toenail. "Nikyyatu shypigukod ucabel, lohoopit gi jidrime, ganigeb foothok," the creature said.
"Excellent," Jackson said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Prune seed pod nail clipper Kevlar corkscrew collapse to jungle," the thing sniped.
"Not on your life. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Mykysadi crate whygikobap."
"Why don't you take your crate and shove it in your brain?" Jackson retorted.
The creature looked bizarre. "Coomuhogy trajabiboob udajac, guhenop," it bragged. "Ceploril!" it continued.
"Your face is a ceploril!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, amiable creature; he was feeling unusually irate. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or waiter. If he had been carrying a hand grenade, 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 Ortmann will be delighted to see you."
The creature tiptoed slightly and played. Then it rose up on its speckled legs, puffed out its eyelash and stalked hysterically toward him.
For the first time, Jackson had the urge to run, but his jaw was blossoming and his legs refused to move.
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