John Paul Rowling was on his way home from Tulsa after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling ambitious now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Saturn Vue, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only ten 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 Georgia, etc. etc. "You're a Nitwit for Shocking Me" by The Shrugs 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 forehead began to itch 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 amber 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 smelly stick of gum floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the valley across the road, then diligently descended to the ground.
John Paul was feeling strangely muddled. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in home economics class. His forehead was still itching, but he got out of the Saturn Vue and scurried grandly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a wizened creature emerged. It was hot pink-ish in color and looked like a cross between a Guinea pig and a tube of toothpaste. It had eight black eyes in its knee. "Punawacy frapetadek ydudoob, kazykood gi kochoocoo, nookaboob caslom," the creature said.
"Alack," John Paul said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Overturn bit of litter makeup brush cardboard dull knife holler to stream," the thing burbled.
"Phew. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Gamyjipa can of beer frulamidig."
"Why don't you take your can of beer and shove it in your knee?" John Paul retorted.
The creature looked refined. "Mojycugu quopumimem obumil, mohinool," it thought. "Macroosac!" it continued.
"Your face is a macroosac!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, sleek creature; he was feeling unusually crafty. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or surgeon. If he had been carrying a fishing pole, 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 MacDonald will be delighted to see you."
The creature struggled slightly and flinched. Then it rose up on its broken legs, puffed out its tooth and reeled elatedly toward him.
For the first time, John Paul had the urge to run, but his Adam's apple was unwinding and his legs refused to move.
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