Travis Ratha was on his way home from Sunnyvale after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling disagreeable now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Corvette, 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 Missouri, etc. etc. "You're a Louse for Needling Me" by The Sighs 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 antenna began to flex 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 chartreuse 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 hideous piggy bank floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the mountain across the road, then ploddingly descended to the ground.
Travis was feeling strangely fearless. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in chemistry class. His antenna was still flexing, but he got out of the Corvette and inched dolorously toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a fair creature emerged. It was lime-green-ish in color and looked like a cross between a kangaroo and an arrowhead. It had five brown eyes in its liver. "Noociroogu crajupymyj ekekook, noocygal go tythole, nijucin hislep," the creature said.
"Bless you," Travis said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Photograph bit of litter chainsaw lath and plaster spoon die to neighborhood," the thing squealed.
"Uh-oh. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Jikoyige fishing rod kloocopydyc."
"Why don't you take your fishing rod and shove it in your funny bone?" Travis retorted.
The creature looked perky. "Dajijecy grupecemak ucutyg, gysidod," it croaked. "Lyproogit!" it continued.
"Your face is a lyproogit!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, sensible creature; he was feeling unusually desperate. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or interior designer. If he had been carrying a roll of duct tape, 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 Griebel will be delighted to see you."
The creature staggered slightly and grunted. Then it rose up on its bizarre legs, puffed out its lung and skidded obediently toward him.
For the first time, Travis had the urge to run, but his belly button was popping and his legs refused to move.
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