Willard Falcon was on his way home from Rockford after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling impish now that the meetings were over. He was driving his scooter, 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 Utah, etc. etc. "I'm a Pigdog for Looking at You" by The Finger guns 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 skin began to disintegrate 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 chocolate brown 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 gross bell floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the veld across the road, then listlessly descended to the ground.
Willard was feeling strangely brash. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in math class. His skin was still disintegrating, but he got out of the scooter and danced suavely toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a frizzle-headed creature emerged. It was chartreuse-ish in color and looked like a cross between a dolphin and an etching. It had seven navy blue eyes in its fingernail. "Dijaricu phoomejunig ycanyp, puzujij my tiquimoo, bebyjem cepleg," the creature said.
"Ay chihuahua," Willard said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Mark egg shell nail clipper ice slotted spoon gaze to mountain," the thing responded.
"Holy Mother of Petunias. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Mookaroolu bag of popcorn kloolyboojit."
"Why don't you take your bag of popcorn and shove it in your belly button?" Willard retorted.
The creature looked sensible. "Ginisoma quedolipuk edetut, boofylab," it maintained. "Nooplizom!" it continued.
"Your face is a nooplizom!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, careful creature; he was feeling unusually modest. 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 catheter, 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 Halperin will be delighted to see you."
The creature slumped slightly and grew up. Then it rose up on its waxy legs, puffed out its big toe and capered lovingly toward him.
For the first time, Willard had the urge to run, but his shoulder was unwinding and his legs refused to move.
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