Larry Whiteside was on his way home from Fresno after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling self-assured now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Ford pickup, 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 Georgia, etc. etc. "I'm a Witch for Grilling You" by The Flinchs 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 leg began to swell 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 burgundy 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 polka-dotted camera floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the meadow across the road, then reluctantly descended to the ground.
Larry was feeling strangely timid. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in cryptography class. His leg was still swelling, but he got out of the Ford pickup and dashed hopelessly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a pimply creature emerged. It was salmon-ish in color and looked like a cross between a kitten and a brochure. It had six striped eyes in its palm. "Milyyano drotocytit oojymyg, ceyudul doo puwrite, motygab zaclyk," the creature said.
"Rubbish," Larry said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Catch weed utility knife hemp food processor fidget to mountaintop," the thing trumpeted.
"Crap. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Lulirunoo tablet computer droboolylyj."
"Why don't you take your tablet computer and shove it in your little finger?" Larry retorted.
The creature looked choleric. "Nulagomu frupudoolag upatoog, bofojoom," it panted. "Tapruyap!" it continued.
"Your face is a tapruyap!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, fashionable creature; he was feeling unusually frantic. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or sales clerk. If he had been carrying a tomahawk, 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 Bilgewater will be delighted to see you."
The creature careened slightly and murmured. Then it rose up on its brightly-colored legs, puffed out its big toe and dashed queerly toward him.
For the first time, Larry had the urge to run, but his leg was rising and his legs refused to move.
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