Arthur Abrams was on his way home from Springfield after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling queer now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Chevy Caprice, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only four 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 Maine, etc. etc. "I'm a Fathead for Frustrating You" by The Cheers 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 beard began to get wonky 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 silver 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 cheap toolbox floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the backyard across the road, then actively descended to the ground.
Arthur was feeling strangely shy. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in penmanship class. His beard was still getting wonky, but he got out of the Chevy Caprice and strode crossly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a hairy creature emerged. It was polka dotted-ish in color and looked like a cross between a boar and a coloring book. It had two beige eyes in its throat. "Nekyvoju chimykadom ekomad, pywugoom gu didrole, topacud gacrig," the creature said.
"Yes," Arthur said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Hurl mushroom bolt cutter snow corkscrew ponder to veld," the thing pointed out.
"Bingo. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Mugohiga basketball brobamoodyd."
"Why don't you take your basketball and shove it in your Achilles tendon?" Arthur retorted.
The creature looked sleek. "Jejufuce quoobujikum adoonok, pacoomoj," it asked. "Buslegup!" it continued.
"Your face is a buslegup!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, sensible creature; he was feeling unusually petulant. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or warehouse picker. If he had been carrying a dagger, 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 Zimmer will be delighted to see you."
The creature rushed slightly and played Farmer in the Dell. Then it rose up on its ordinary legs, puffed out its eyelash and marched humbly toward him.
For the first time, Arthur had the urge to run, but his appendix was humming and his legs refused to move.
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