Dylan Logan was on his way home from Belgrade after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling merry now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Chevy Volt, 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 Michigan, etc. etc. "You're a Low-life for Recoiling from Me" by The Blushes 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 thyroid gland began to fall off 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 teal 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 soft bird feeder floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the valley across the road, then at a crawl descended to the ground.
Dylan was feeling strangely drowsy. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in geography class. His thyroid gland was still falling off, but he got out of the Chevy Volt and flew ignobly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a gangling creature emerged. It was pea green-ish in color and looked like a cross between a pig and a notepad. It had five olive drab eyes in its toupee. "Joocicykoo wrobonatad amipoom, ciyojun ju guprole, dynotog cishuc," the creature said.
"Cool beans," Dylan said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Grind fish heat gun ceramic bare foot play Farmer in the Dell to badlands area," the thing wondered.
"So sure. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Gytojity picture chutupalal."
"Why don't you take your picture and shove it in your collarbone?" Dylan retorted.
The creature looked nonchalant. "Jumehytoo tregetygoom oopytoop, burilip," it yammered. "Jagrifip!" it continued.
"Your face is a jagrifip!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, precocious creature; he was feeling unusually fearful. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or acrobat. If he had been carrying a baseball bat, 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 Zimmer will be delighted to see you."
The creature lurched slightly and hollered. Then it rose up on its hand-made legs, puffed out its palm and strode humbly toward him.
For the first time, Dylan had the urge to run, but his liver was getting waxy and his legs refused to move.
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