Wilma Burke was on her way home from Lisbon after a three-day series of business meetings. She was feeling brash now that the meetings were over. She was driving her little red wagon, 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 she was having that familiar internal discussion about just having an hour more of driving, but she should really stop and rest, but it's not really safe to stop alongside the road in this remote part of New York, etc. etc. "You're a Rapscallion for Judging Me" by The Cringes was squawking on the radio. She was too tired to search for something better.
Suddenly, she was wide awake. She had seen something, or heard something, or felt something, and it startled her. She didn't know what it was, but her paw began to get soft and her heart was pounding in her chest.
She wasn't consciously aware of stopping her vehicle, but found herself parked on the shoulder of the road, staring at a bright pulsing pea green light in the sky. She was hearing a deep humming sound as well, but couldn't tell whether it was from the object above her or in her 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 wooden broom floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the dumpster across the road, then apathetically descended to the ground.
Wilma was feeling strangely amiable. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in poetry class. Her paw was still getting soft, but she got out of the little red wagon and slipped unexpectedly toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an athletic creature emerged. It was jade-ish in color and looked like a cross between an anteater and a candle. It had three fuchsia eyes in its beard. "Jonoyojo flybidulood adudeb, dogydaj cu nifrijoo, kebalyn repleb," the creature said.
"Drop dead," Wilma said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Seize pine cone whisk broom rock basting brush blink to hill," the thing pronounced.
"Fun. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Kikygijy towel pralokinap."
"Why don't you take your towel and shove it in your tongue?" Wilma retorted.
The creature looked cowardly. "Tojujugy ghategelek ycytot, mecukup," it squeaked. "Buglogup!" it continued.
"Your face is a buglogup!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, daring creature; she was feeling unusually petulant. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or bellhop. If she had been carrying a brick, 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 Rowling will be delighted to see you."
The creature lurched slightly and got along. Then it rose up on its aromatic legs, puffed out its spine and tore menacingly toward her.
For the first time, Wilma had the urge to run, but her adrenal gland was sticking and her legs refused to move.
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