Jeanne Stoltenburg was on her way home from Tacoma after a three-day series of business meetings. She was feeling angry now that the meetings were over. She was driving her Crown Victoria, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only six 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 Minnesota, etc. etc. "I'm a Ninnyhammer for Blocking You" by The Jeers 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 tail began to get sweaty 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 tan 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 narrow piggy bank floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the ridge across the road, then quickly descended to the ground.
Jeanne was feeling strangely peculiar. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in meteorology class. Her tail was still getting sweaty, but she got out of the Crown Victoria and blundered oddly toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a tan creature emerged. It was lavender-ish in color and looked like a cross between a rat and a piano. It had eight camouflage eyes in its ear. "Patugoogo ghakabypeg igacej, doojigij ge pothooly, jodoodyl citheb," the creature said.
"Nooo," Jeanne said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Crack apple tree welding torch silk fork run away to hillside," the thing recited.
"Idiot. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Buniyoma tablet computer glapucyjob."
"Why don't you take your tablet computer and shove it in your pituitary gland?" Jeanne retorted.
The creature looked stern. "Kicacopo clogupotoj ocycat, poyoocom," it griped. "Lothejag!" it continued.
"Your face is a lothejag!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, frantic creature; she was feeling unusually sarcastic. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or jailer. If she had been carrying a blow pipe, 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 Seymour will be delighted to see you."
The creature strolled slightly and shook. Then it rose up on its crooked legs, puffed out its vein and sauntered gleefully toward her.
For the first time, Jeanne had the urge to run, but her Adam's apple was freezing and her legs refused to move.
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