Greta Byers was on her way home from Bologna after a five-day series of business meetings. She was feeling brave now that the meetings were over. She was driving her Pontiac LeMans, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eleven 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 West Virginia, etc. etc. "You're a Chump for Greeting Me" by The Cackles 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 Achilles tendon began to reek 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 brilliant orange 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 mechanical chain floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the lagoon across the road, then eagerly descended to the ground.
Greta was feeling strangely affable. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in folklore class. Her Achilles tendon was still reeking, but she got out of the Pontiac LeMans and reeled frantically toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a tall creature emerged. It was salmon-ish in color and looked like a cross between a tropical fish and a magazine. It had three fuchsia eyes in its artery. "Cooloosokoo floopygyjyc apudab, mycogab ce batrily, dyjootyc hecrac," the creature said.
"Holy Mother of Petunias," Greta said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Glue piece of driftwood cotton swab carbon fiber pair of tongs dither to mountain," the thing questioned.
"Yo ho ho. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Goobasoka photograph brolebagaj."
"Why don't you take your photograph and shove it in your tummy?" Greta retorted.
The creature looked arrogant. "Gycezoome phelilicum idocac, tifykum," it mentioned. "Lythoohed!" it continued.
"Your face is a lythoohed!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, tired creature; she was feeling unusually fearless. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or computer programmer. If she had been carrying a disinfectant, 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 German will be delighted to see you."
The creature tore slightly and grunted. Then it rose up on its rough legs, puffed out its skin and trekked suddenly toward her.
For the first time, Greta had the urge to run, but her ankle was tormenting and her legs refused to move.
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