Doc Sargent was on his way home from Riverside after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling suave now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Nissan Sentra, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only nine 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 Arizona, etc. etc. "You're a Wastrel for Glaring at Me" by The Hoots 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 waist began to smoke 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 rose 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 frilly teddy bear floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the seacoast across the road, then lethargically descended to the ground.
Doc was feeling strangely puzzled. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in gaming class. His waist was still smoking, but he got out of the Nissan Sentra and skidded ingeniously toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a dapper creature emerged. It was black-ish in color and looked like a cross between a nightingale and a fish bowl. It had three jade eyes in its aorta. "Lykoojibu trootytugic itenud, cusabod mu puwhido, kudalen cytrool," the creature said.
"Yipes," Doc said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Cut bird's nest squeegee rolled oat pastry blender freak out to housing development," the thing vouched.
"Roger that. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Nyjovuke toilet plunger kronookakoob."
"Why don't you take your toilet plunger and shove it in your belly button?" Doc retorted.
The creature looked sweet. "Mopyzooma frodacobac alolek, doocamab," it reminded. "Miglagit!" it continued.
"Your face is a miglagit!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, artistic creature; he was feeling unusually sober. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or goldsmith. If he had been carrying a bow and arrows, 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 Cutler will be delighted to see you."
The creature tiptoed slightly and got away. Then it rose up on its hideous legs, puffed out its calf and blundered impatiently toward him.
For the first time, Doc had the urge to run, but his tummy was rolling and his legs refused to move.
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