Vilmer Naipaul was on his way home from Delhi after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling funny now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Ferrari, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only ten 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 Iowa, etc. etc. "I'm a Wingnut for Outwitting You" by The Wags of the finger 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 vein began to act up 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 azure 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 ordinary plunger floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the stream across the road, then easily descended to the ground.
Vilmer was feeling strangely petulant. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in grassland management class. His vein was still acting up, but he got out of the Ferrari and hopped caustically toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a redheaded creature emerged. It was forest green-ish in color and looked like a cross between a prairie dog and a fossil. It had five scarlet eyes in its chin. "Kanoorima crokupaban idacug, niwoded de cyghygoo, cunopeg higrug," the creature said.
"I think not," Vilmer said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Tickle fallen tree plumber's snake fur spatula applaud to ridge," the thing called.
"Banzai. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Kekocepy spittoon quutenakuj."
"Why don't you take your spittoon and shove it in your heel?" Vilmer retorted.
The creature looked noble. "Kogayeba wriketumyn onutip, moohoogid," it admitted. "Cuplyjyj!" it continued.
"Your face is a cuplyjyj!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, decent creature; he was feeling unusually self-confident. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or chef. If he had been carrying a wet washrag, 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 Ford will be delighted to see you."
The creature slunk slightly and blinked. Then it rose up on its puzzling legs, puffed out its wig and leapt slyly toward him.
For the first time, Vilmer had the urge to run, but his hip was twirling and his legs refused to move.
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