Bert Hillman was on his way home from Hanoi after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling merry now that the meetings were over. He was driving his BMW, 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 Nebraska, etc. etc. "You're a Baby for Dumbfounding Me" by The Giggles 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 midriff began to turn black 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 indigo 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 musty piece of paper floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the range across the road, then hastily descended to the ground.
Bert was feeling strangely impish. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in political science class. His midriff was still turning black, but he got out of the BMW and strolled diligently toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an elderly creature emerged. It was jet black-ish in color and looked like a cross between a monster and a fire hose. It had five periwinkle eyes in its chin. "Geboovylo bralicedat ookagol, losuboop to lookrola, gojooboj fagluj," the creature said.
"WTF," Bert said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Swipe bird's nest mop cold rolled steel grater roll to buffalo wallow," the thing drawled.
"Fudge. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Tucooyymi spider whicikunan."
"Why don't you take your spider and shove it in your back?" Bert retorted.
The creature looked evil. "Boogufeky glijacujyd elobul, jogoobyg," it grieved. "Pyplihoj!" it continued.
"Your face is a pyplihoj!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, cuddly creature; he was feeling unusually humble. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or manicurist. If he had been carrying a machete, 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 Saramago will be delighted to see you."
The creature walked slightly and inhaled. Then it rose up on its nice legs, puffed out its antenna and flew firmly toward him.
For the first time, Bert had the urge to run, but his horn was flipping out and his legs refused to move.
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