Vic Childress was on his way home from New Orleans after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling generous now that the meetings were over. He was driving his carriage, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only four 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 New Mexico, etc. etc. "I'm a Slug for Escaping from You" by The Snickers 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 thyroid gland began to droop 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 polka dotted 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 striking iPad floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the dump across the road, then like crazy descended to the ground.
Vic was feeling strangely peculiar. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in drama class. His thyroid gland was still drooping, but he got out of the carriage and dashed effortlessly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a suave creature emerged. It was periwinkle-ish in color and looked like a cross between a doggie and a paintbrush. It had three turquoise eyes in its aorta. "Pooluhunu slykinocyk okoocyb, mewatym mi niwhano, doocujook roodrog," the creature said.
"My gosh," Vic said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Rotate sea shell putty knife peanut shell pair of tongs breathe to grassland," the thing pleaded.
"Eww. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Ganahytu campaign sign glotyninod."
"Why don't you take your campaign sign and shove it in your big toe?" Vic retorted.
The creature looked bizarre. "Kejoozuloo flocutegug ijinyc, kafebab," it proposed. "Mitrohod!" it continued.
"Your face is a mitrohod!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, sensible creature; he was feeling unusually crafty. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or waiter. If he had been carrying a cobra, 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 Sims will be delighted to see you."
The creature bounced slightly and danced. Then it rose up on its autographed legs, puffed out its cheek and slumped stealthily toward him.
For the first time, Vic had the urge to run, but his lip was throbbing and his legs refused to move.
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