Helmut Bluestein was on his way home from Aurora after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling timid now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Ferrari Spider, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only two 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. "You're a Good-for-nothing for Aweing Me" by The Snorts 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 spine began to unravel 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 beige 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 charming helmet floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the cesspool across the road, then hurriedly descended to the ground.
Helmut was feeling strangely stubborn. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in sociology class. His spine was still unraveling, but he got out of the Ferrari Spider and padded coolly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a stocky creature emerged. It was sea green-ish in color and looked like a cross between a chameleon and a mop. It had five chocolate brown eyes in its bicep. "Netiwoto phegotogak etadyn, mejoodeb bu guchapi, culymic wotroon," the creature said.
"Cool beans," Helmut said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Package tree rasp lumber ice pick quiver to mesa," the thing boomed.
"Son of a Baptist preacher. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Nidagoono playing card wrebomutoop."
"Why don't you take your playing card and shove it in your rib?" Helmut retorted.
The creature looked mournful. "Boomicane thanoomootek oopupij, powootij," it giggled. "Baphagoot!" it continued.
"Your face is a baphagoot!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, dark creature; he was feeling unusually impish. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or chimney sweep. If he had been carrying a paddle, 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 Zimmerman will be delighted to see you."
The creature set out slightly and winked. Then it rose up on its imported legs, puffed out its liver and tumbled offhandedly toward him.
For the first time, Helmut had the urge to run, but his hoof was attracting flies and his legs refused to move.
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