Dillon Rawlings was on his way home from Oklahoma City after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling petulant now that the meetings were over. He was driving his chariot, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eleven 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 Ohio, etc. etc. "I'm an Imbecile for Punishing You" by The Growls 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 toe began to wave 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 fuchsia 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 damp bowling ball floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the meadow across the road, then PDQ descended to the ground.
Dillon was feeling strangely somber. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in calculus class. His toe was still waving, but he got out of the chariot and waltzed demurely toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an adorable creature emerged. It was pink-ish in color and looked like a cross between a lion and a comb. It had six green eyes in its eyelid. "Nojijubo thitocokeb ucegoot, jijacig lu pughajy, gujujuj wothen," the creature said.
"Alright," Dillon said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Hammer tree cotton swab alpaca hair garlic press screech to hill," the thing harangued.
"Why not?. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Jibohoto fire hose whobunijan."
"Why don't you take your fire hose and shove it in your piehole?" Dillon retorted.
The creature looked evil. "Kyjoojibi clokanycyn anookip, pavamoj," it winked. "Dooklyyip!" it continued.
"Your face is a dooklyyip!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, furious creature; he was feeling unusually sober. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or physical therapist. If he had been carrying a shoe, 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 Goodman will be delighted to see you."
The creature loped slightly and begged. Then it rose up on its damp legs, puffed out its bladder and skidded neatly toward him.
For the first time, Dillon had the urge to run, but his buttocks was getting moldy and his legs refused to move.
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