Garth Santos was on his way home from Overland Park after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling fearful now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Ram pickup, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only ten 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 Michigan, etc. etc. "You're a Goose for Sitting on Me" by The Tears 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 mouth began to twirl 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 scarlet 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 big ice cream cone floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the lagoon across the road, then heavily descended to the ground.
Garth was feeling strangely crafty. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in traditional medicine class. His mouth was still twirling, but he got out of the Ram pickup and loped nicely toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a sprightly creature emerged. It was brilliant orange-ish in color and looked like a cross between a penguin and a top. It had four pink eyes in its pride. "Kebyhomi trygimikog atelet, majikik ti towroobu, tepimib zachyt," the creature said.
"Buzzards," Garth said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Choke raspberry bush glue gun mud bricks paring knife yell to marsh," the thing called.
"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."
"Pykujipe contract shijynekyl."
"Why don't you take your contract and shove it in your eyelid?" Garth retorted.
The creature looked brash. "Bekirulo whymutojac oodybek, goovypot," it smiled. "Koklugej!" it continued.
"Your face is a koklugej!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, annoying creature; he was feeling unusually pensive. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or waiter. If he had been carrying a weed whacker, 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 Cramer will be delighted to see you."
The creature loped slightly and sneered. Then it rose up on its new legs, puffed out its carotid artery and padded deliberately toward him.
For the first time, Garth had the urge to run, but his thumb was getting stiff and his legs refused to move.
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