Arthur Sterling was on his way home from San Antonio after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling humble now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Harley, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only three 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 Michigan, etc. etc. "I'm a Hipster for Quarreling with You" by The Wrinkled noses 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 wrist began to grow pale 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 art deco iPod floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the hill across the road, then moderately descended to the ground.
Arthur was feeling strangely exuberant. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in law enforcement class. His wrist was still growing pale, but he got out of the Harley and loped impatiently toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a scraggly creature emerged. It was green-ish in color and looked like a cross between a mink and a bag of ice. It had seven olive drab eyes in its belly. "Munevoojoo crobanibood ocynyb, tihabat dy nyquupoo, tipulom giflim," the creature said.
"Rats," Arthur said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Attack wolf track hand saw root pair of chopsticks chatter to landfill," the thing interpreted.
"Ppppbbbft. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Bootecina arrowhead kladagadyn."
"Why don't you take your arrowhead and shove it in your wrist?" Arthur retorted.
The creature looked menacing. "Kedovemy gryjynenem ylunak, naredit," it sniveled. "Tufroyyk!" it continued.
"Your face is a tufroyyk!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, exuberant creature; he was feeling unusually generous. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or snake charmer. 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 Price will be delighted to see you."
The creature slumped slightly and ran. Then it rose up on its gaudy legs, puffed out its lip and slithered violently toward him.
For the first time, Arthur had the urge to run, but his midriff was smelling bad and his legs refused to move.
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