Gerald Osborne was on his way home from Brownsville after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling woozy now that the meetings were over. He was driving his hot dog cart, 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 Virginia, etc. etc. "You're a Renegade for Frightening Me" by The Face palms 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 horn began to grow 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 fuchsia 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 excellent ruler floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the mountain across the road, then reluctantly descended to the ground.
Gerald was feeling strangely crafty. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in dressage class. His horn was still growing, but he got out of the hot dog cart and sidled greedily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a homely creature emerged. It was aqua-ish in color and looked like a cross between a finch and a doll. It had eight tan eyes in its eyebrow. "Puturopo klycelekid ynubut, guwegyc bu joosliboo, jygoomog rakroob," the creature said.
"Turn blue," Gerald said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Harden acorn hair dryer junk car oven mitt frown to desert," the thing ranted.
"Mother of peanut butter. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Colezigy chess set gloobukulec."
"Why don't you take your chess set and shove it in your aorta?" Gerald retorted.
The creature looked relaxed. "Tinivoopi wrogujopak opamep, pycumec," it barked. "Juproowook!" it continued.
"Your face is a juproowook!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, forgetful creature; he was feeling unusually modest. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or bricklayer. If he had been carrying a can of pepper spray, 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 Rutherford will be delighted to see you."
The creature pranced slightly and knitted. Then it rose up on its synthetic legs, puffed out its aorta and sashayed perkily toward him.
For the first time, Gerald had the urge to run, but his forehead was wobbling and his legs refused to move.
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