Oliver Oldfather was on his way home from London after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling affable now that the meetings were over. He was driving his hearse, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only five 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 Nevada, etc. etc. "I'm a Villain for Sitting on You" by The Squints 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 toupee began to scale off 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 red 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 dry ball floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the plateau across the road, then indolently descended to the ground.
Oliver was feeling strangely generous. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in interior design class. His toupee was still scaling off, but he got out of the hearse and jogged jokingly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a bedraggled creature emerged. It was magenta-ish in color and looked like a cross between a pig and a cigarette. It had four emerald green eyes in its ankle. "Micocyde fribykinool oojujooc, koyebit no datroty, locomam woowhooj," the creature said.
"Wowsers," Oliver said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Jab fish scythe steel ladle wince to island," the thing grieved.
"Jiminy crickets. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Dotavooby bullet prooditykook."
"Why don't you take your bullet and shove it in your stomach?" Oliver retorted.
The creature looked anemic. "Magugyjy phoolytoogoon ymikoog, koofebam," it orated. "Dofryzec!" it continued.
"Your face is a dofryzec!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, heavyset creature; he was feeling unusually self-confident. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or rodeo cowboy. If he had been carrying a lasso, 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 Rosen will be delighted to see you."
The creature paraded slightly and played. Then it rose up on its rigid legs, puffed out its femur and sped dolefully toward him.
For the first time, Oliver had the urge to run, but his hair was whistling and his legs refused to move.
Next Chapter