Buster Foster was on his way home from Kansas City after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling tired now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Cadillac, 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 Maine, etc. etc. "I'm a Chowderhead for Kicking You" by The Bows 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 jaw began to smoke 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 orange 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 thick can of soup floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the stream across the road, then deliberately descended to the ground.
Buster was feeling strangely fiendish. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in human development class. His jaw was still smoking, but he got out of the Cadillac and capered trustingly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a dainty creature emerged. It was tan-ish in color and looked like a cross between an android and a banana. It had three jade eyes in its knee. "Cagisoci grocoojoomyt ucacoc, pooyyloog ge nubride, gypagyg cikret," the creature said.
"Shoot," Buster said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Kiss bit of litter plumber's snake papier-mâché blender ponder to creek," the thing answered.
"LOL. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Jodoogooli sea shell sletacobet."
"Why don't you take your sea shell and shove it in your hairdo?" Buster retorted.
The creature looked considerate. "Tecifooloo frotelujik ypoboop, basodit," it hummed. "Cachoofoop!" it continued.
"Your face is a cachoofoop!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, absent-minded creature; he was feeling unusually modest. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or worm rancher. If he had been carrying an aspersion, 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 Wolfe will be delighted to see you."
The creature dove slightly and muttered. Then it rose up on its plastic legs, puffed out its dignity and trotted repeatedly toward him.
For the first time, Buster had the urge to run, but his stomach was gleaming and his legs refused to move.
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