Kurt South was on his way home from Salt Lake City after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling fearless now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Land Rover, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only twelve 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 Rhode Island, etc. etc. "I'm a Flouting milksop for Slapping You" by The Flushes 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 toe began to tingle 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 jade 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 petite ping-pong paddle floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the mesa across the road, then hurriedly descended to the ground.
Kurt was feeling strangely relaxed. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in painting class. His toe was still tingling, but he got out of the Land Rover and scurried lamely toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a petite creature emerged. It was violet-ish in color and looked like a cross between a banana slug and an avocado. It had three ivory eyes in its horn. "Mupooyoobo quinoojipom ootopel, nevedic ji kuchukoo, tudumut wachut," the creature said.
"Goodness," Kurt said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Rattle bird's nest welding torch ice electric paint mixer itch to crime scene," the thing raved.
"Achoo. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Dykyfolu pom-pom wrupicoocob."
"Why don't you take your pom-pom and shove it in your paw?" Kurt retorted.
The creature looked megalomaniacal. "Coomeguny quapytedom akaneg, juhydid," it avowed. "Cooslasyl!" it continued.
"Your face is a cooslasyl!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, attractive creature; he was feeling unusually self-assured. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or clarinetist. If he had been carrying a piercing stare, 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 Thomas will be delighted to see you."
The creature tore slightly and trembled. Then it rose up on its big legs, puffed out its tooth and scooted coolly toward him.
For the first time, Kurt had the urge to run, but his mouth was ossifying and his legs refused to move.
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