Helen Magnusson was on her way home from Copenhagen after a three-day series of business meetings. She was feeling crafty now that the meetings were over. She was driving her Cadillac, 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 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 Arizona, etc. etc. "You're a Stumblebum for Arguing with Me" by The Squints 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 paw began to dissolve 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 beige 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 rare photograph floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the backyard across the road, then gradually descended to the ground.
Helen was feeling strangely decisive. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in arithmetic class. Her paw was still dissolving, but she got out of the Cadillac and trekked suddenly toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a dashing creature emerged. It was orange-ish in color and looked like a cross between a lion and a hair dryer. It had eight yellow eyes in its thumb. "Toojezyboo thootoodocuk upoonep, goovopig ly deslijo, pytagim siphec," the creature said.
"Spiffy," Helen said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Spin feather hand saw burlap turkey baster grunt to desert," the thing purred.
"Great Scott. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Dolyyedoo orange broodokudoog."
"Why don't you take your orange and shove it in your adrenal gland?" Helen retorted.
The creature looked cocky. "Nedycooby troogegepyd elajin, nucomet," it clarified. "Bapryrin!" it continued.
"Your face is a bapryrin!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, gentle creature; she was feeling unusually ambitious. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or jailer. If she had been carrying a pair of scissors, 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 Tate will be delighted to see you."
The creature trekked slightly and blinked. Then it rose up on its valuable legs, puffed out its palm and sashayed gratefully toward her.
For the first time, Helen had the urge to run, but her fingernail was molding and her legs refused to move.
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