Roscoe Butterfield was on his way home from San Salvador after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling cautious now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Plymouth, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only nine 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 Kansas, etc. etc. "I'm a Birdbrain for Touching You" by The Beams 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 dignity began to putrify 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 silver 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 woven backpack floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the seashore across the road, then hurriedly descended to the ground.
Roscoe was feeling strangely angry. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in biology class. His dignity was still putrifying, but he got out of the Plymouth and flew sharply toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a plump creature emerged. It was azure-ish in color and looked like a cross between a brine shrimp and a hair dryer. It had six terra cotta eyes in its foot. "Pacoowuni whikoocagad enodyc, kujagup ne nogryna, jojapab fooprul," the creature said.
"Idiot," Roscoe said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Protect poison ivy plant squeegee nut and bolt garlic press stare into space to battlefield," the thing whispered.
"Now what?. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Kotyveby pizza flumootyjul."
"Why don't you take your pizza and shove it in your dignity?" Roscoe retorted.
The creature looked charming. "Jedigudo krimugoobyg acoobak, jyremoon," it griped. "Docleyub!" it continued.
"Your face is a docleyub!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, pert creature; he was feeling unusually humble. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or pawnbroker. If he had been carrying a stash of bribe money, 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 Mallory will be delighted to see you."
The creature jogged slightly and nodded off. Then it rose up on its plastic legs, puffed out its toenail and set out dolorously toward him.
For the first time, Roscoe had the urge to run, but his waist was going crazy and his legs refused to move.
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