Jughead Fritz was on his way home from Akron after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling carefree now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Jeep Cherokee, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only five 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 Wyoming, etc. etc. "You're a Donkey for Caring for Me" by The Shrugs 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 intestine began to harden 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 lime-green 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 rigid orange floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the plain across the road, then double-time descended to the ground.
Jughead was feeling strangely timid. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in Latin class. His intestine was still hardening, but he got out of the Jeep Cherokee and sneaked haughtily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an ugly creature emerged. It was grey-ish in color and looked like a cross between a bat and a vacuum cleaner. It had five aqua eyes in its funny bone. "Tijuhetoo crubupijyc udikit, misoobel ca pokrutoo, cycipyl woplul," the creature said.
"@#%#^@%$@!," Jughead said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Hack fallen tree laser beam foil whisk bleed to cornfield," the thing offered.
"So sure. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Lylowootu hot potato gricagelim."
"Why don't you take your hot potato and shove it in your pride?" Jughead retorted.
The creature looked cautious. "Noocacolu wrodycudyt iboobic, begagad," it babbled. "Nadrisyg!" it continued.
"Your face is a nadrisyg!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, ungainly creature; he was feeling unusually fearful. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or mediator. If he had been carrying a scimitar, 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 Dole will be delighted to see you."
The creature tiptoed slightly and clapped. Then it rose up on its gleaming legs, puffed out its spine and rolled angrily toward him.
For the first time, Jughead had the urge to run, but his spinal cord was turning blue and his legs refused to move.
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