Roger Lindgren was on his way home from Saskatoon after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling lazy now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Chevrolet Belair, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eight 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 Connecticut, etc. etc. "You're a Reptile for Fooling Me" by The Grimaces 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 throat began to quake 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 salmon 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 prickly etching floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the plateau across the road, then rapidly descended to the ground.
Roger was feeling strangely fearless. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in constitutional law class. His throat was still quaking, but he got out of the Chevrolet Belair and slipped brightly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a cute creature emerged. It was sparkly-ish in color and looked like a cross between an alligator and a gun. It had six silver eyes in its eyebrow. "Poonazaci troonejapoc unatik, jooyekat je naqueni, jepinoom sagrood," the creature said.
"Holy minerva," Roger said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Duplicate leaf shovel burlap electric mixer quiver to buffalo wallow," the thing spoke up.
"The joke's on me. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Poojegiko baseball klejetimuk."
"Why don't you take your baseball and shove it in your aorta?" Roger retorted.
The creature looked mournful. "Menosuloo glypodokyd eloomum, muyootid," it growled. "Gefriyoom!" it continued.
"Your face is a gefriyoom!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, wily creature; he was feeling unusually cautious. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or student. If he had been carrying a parlor trick, 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 Tuttle will be delighted to see you."
The creature ambled slightly and stretched. Then it rose up on its hand-painted legs, puffed out its lung and set out urgently toward him.
For the first time, Roger had the urge to run, but his ankle was cooling down and his legs refused to move.
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