Sharice Tilley was on her way home from Lexington after a three-day series of business meetings. She was feeling self-assured now that the meetings were over. She was driving her MG convertible, 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 she was having that familiar internal discussion about just having an hour more of driving, but she should really stop and rest, but it's not really safe to stop alongside the road in this remote part of Illinois, etc. etc. "I'm a Bandicoot for Whispering to You" by The Squints was squawking on the radio. She was too tired to search for something better.
Suddenly, she was wide awake. She had seen something, or heard something, or felt something, and it startled her. She didn't know what it was, but her big toe began to twist and her heart was pounding in her chest.
She wasn't consciously aware of stopping her vehicle, but found herself parked on the shoulder of the road, staring at a bright pulsing pea green light in the sky. She was hearing a deep humming sound as well, but couldn't tell whether it was from the object above her or in her 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 electric business card floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the veld across the road, then speedily descended to the ground.
Sharice was feeling strangely suave. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in meteorology class. Her big toe was still twisting, but she got out of the MG convertible and struggled dolorously toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a pretty creature emerged. It was aquamarine-ish in color and looked like a cross between a hawk and a sponge. It had seven amber eyes in its intestine. "Putooyomoo slikobonyc amidic, coohybub ny tishadoo, kykagag vaplood," the creature said.
"Son of a Baptist preacher," Sharice said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Hammer stick match toothpick grater back down to field," the thing retorted.
"Uh-huh. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Cigoofami toolbox crekuligib."
"Why don't you take your toolbox and shove it in your pancreas?" Sharice retorted.
The creature looked miniscule. "Nelyyeki whabileloon icokal, dajoopim," it answered. "Getrycoot!" it continued.
"Your face is a getrycoot!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, fashionable creature; she was feeling unusually daring. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or street artist. If she had been carrying a revolver, 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 Stephens will be delighted to see you."
The creature waltzed slightly and snored. Then it rose up on its large legs, puffed out its hand and trotted intensely toward her.
For the first time, Sharice had the urge to run, but her pinky was wandering and her legs refused to move.
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