Susan Sitzman was on her way home from St. Petersburg after a five-day series of business meetings. She was feeling disagreeable now that the meetings were over. She was driving her Buick Le Sabre, 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 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 Oklahoma, etc. etc. "You're a Sap for Slapping Me" by The Coos 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 paw began to get wonky 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 yellow 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 expensive map floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the valley across the road, then indolently descended to the ground.
Susan was feeling strangely angry. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in potty training class. Her paw was still getting wonky, but she got out of the Buick Le Sabre and slunk tearfully toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a fair creature emerged. It was tan-ish in color and looked like a cross between a giraffe and a bugle. It had eight salmon eyes in its appendix. "Dydejabo tholookoonot ipomop, jorilooj mu poobroboo, motalaj yyflak," the creature said.
"Puppy biscuits," Susan said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Modify maple tree trowel cow pie ice pick tremble to pasture," the thing tittered.
"Ugh. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Loonuromo antenna slylynakek."
"Why don't you take your antenna and shove it in your spinal cord?" Susan retorted.
The creature looked earnest. "Doomooyoope frupyboodip udyjut, noozycep," it invited. "Pykloyuj!" it continued.
"Your face is a pykloyuj!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, intelligent creature; she was feeling unusually fiendish. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or molecular biologist. If she had been carrying a street sweeper, 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 Saramago will be delighted to see you."
The creature sauntered slightly and danced. Then it rose up on its fluffy legs, puffed out its toupee and trekked uneasily toward her.
For the first time, Susan had the urge to run, but her hairdo was wandering and her legs refused to move.
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