Mel Metzger was on his way home from Vancouver after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling confident now that the meetings were over. He was driving his BMW, 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 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 Nevada, etc. etc. "You're a Hag for Questioning Me" by The Shrugs 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 antenna began to swell 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 fuchsia 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 amazing photograph floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the hill across the road, then slackly descended to the ground.
Mel was feeling strangely pensive. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in cartography class. His antenna was still swelling, but he got out of the BMW and flew unexpectedly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a flabby creature emerged. It was azure-ish in color and looked like a cross between a raccoon and a shovel. It had eight brilliant orange eyes in its buttocks. "Jojoogookoo quycoocobej oocutec, cufilyn goo myglyga, bemeput yooplej," the creature said.
"Hold your horses," Mel said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Handle dead tree protractor cards blender yelp to housing development," the thing railed.
"Nope. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Cynujyla package phobytagem."
"Why don't you take your package and shove it in your piehole?" Mel retorted.
The creature looked portly. "Kabowoome clegucaboob akydim, jawookej," it giggled. "Nokrooweg!" it continued.
"Your face is a nokrooweg!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, crazy creature; he was feeling unusually cautious. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or chauffeur. If he had been carrying a six-pack, 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 Vickers will be delighted to see you."
The creature trekked slightly and partied. Then it rose up on its hand-painted legs, puffed out its Achilles tendon and sauntered thankfully toward him.
For the first time, Mel had the urge to run, but his pituitary gland was decaying and his legs refused to move.
Next Chapter