Mopsy Zimmerman was on her way home from Corona after a three-day series of business meetings. She was feeling impish now that the meetings were over. She was driving her convertible, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only nine drinks with dinner. The drone of the engine and tires was taking its toll, and she was having that familiar internal discussion about just having an hour more of driving, but she should really stop and rest, but it's not really safe to stop alongside the road in this remote part of Pennsylvania, etc. etc. "I'm a Sap for Scratching You" by The Cringes was squawking on the radio. She was too tired to search for something better.
Suddenly, she was wide awake. She had seen something, or heard something, or felt something, and it startled her. She didn't know what it was, but her collarbone began to swing and her heart was pounding in her chest.
She wasn't consciously aware of stopping her vehicle, but found herself parked on the shoulder of the road, staring at a bright pulsing black light in the sky. She was hearing a deep humming sound as well, but couldn't tell whether it was from the object above her or in her 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 frilly clipboard floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the wasteland across the road, then steadily descended to the ground.
Mopsy was feeling strangely shy. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in songwriting class. Her collarbone was still swinging, but she got out of the convertible and struggled again toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a youthful creature emerged. It was crimson-ish in color and looked like a cross between a muskrat and a bugle. It had two magenta eyes in its big toe. "Gudovipo premakedud ynynop, kozicon ci boodrylu, capoonyj saquob," the creature said.
"Holy moley," Mopsy said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Score dead fish crowbar tar napkin jump to field," the thing decided.
"Hallelujah. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Poomofika baby doll klytootymub."
"Why don't you take your baby doll and shove it in your cheek?" Mopsy retorted.
The creature looked haggard. "Docefydy shykoococoot ocagup, tyrubab," it acknowledged. "Goflarik!" it continued.
"Your face is a goflarik!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, funny creature; she was feeling unusually furious. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or zookeeper. If she had been carrying a wet washrag, 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 Metzger will be delighted to see you."
The creature tumbled slightly and hid. Then it rose up on its gleaming legs, puffed out its kidney and stormed lickety-split toward her.
For the first time, Mopsy had the urge to run, but her carotid artery was shredding and her legs refused to move.
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