Mason Wright was on his way home from Clodville after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling brave now that the meetings were over. He was driving his cargo van, 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 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 New York, etc. etc. "I'm a Boogerhead for Trusting You" by The Kisses 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 tummy began to harden 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 olive drab 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 disgusting coat check ticket floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the badlands area across the road, then like crazy descended to the ground.
Mason was feeling strangely lethargic. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in deportment class. His tummy was still hardening, but he got out of the cargo van and scooted softly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a frizzle-headed creature emerged. It was amber-ish in color and looked like a cross between a jaguar and a cork. It had seven ivory eyes in its midriff. "Nepoohyge troolodilud oletooc, nejydoop ba guwhody, jukoojyt wooshoog," the creature said.
"Boo," Mason said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Disguise bit of litter scraper dream and vision electric mixer glare to seacoast," the thing gasped.
"Very funny. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Didayoode clock projebityt."
"Why don't you take your clock and shove it in your thyroid gland?" Mason retorted.
The creature looked bubbly. "Poojyhoola frymenidood ogoolan, pivoodim," it whispered. "Pebrajuc!" it continued.
"Your face is a pebrajuc!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, sober creature; he was feeling unusually decisive. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or courier. If he had been carrying a charm, 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 Allen will be delighted to see you."
The creature staggered slightly and bounced. Then it rose up on its prickly legs, puffed out its face and lumbered suspiciously toward him.
For the first time, Mason had the urge to run, but his knuckle was turning red and his legs refused to move.
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