Megan Nagy was on her way home from London after a three-day series of business meetings. She was feeling stubborn now that the meetings were over. She was driving her GTO, 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 she was having that familiar internal discussion about just having an hour more of driving, but she should really stop and rest, but it's not really safe to stop alongside the road in this remote part of Virginia, etc. etc. "I'm a Weirdo for Frustrating You" by The Frowns was squawking on the radio. She was too tired to search for something better.
Suddenly, she was wide awake. She had seen something, or heard something, or felt something, and it startled her. She didn't know what it was, but her wrist began to creak and her heart was pounding in her chest.
She wasn't consciously aware of stopping her vehicle, but found herself parked on the shoulder of the road, staring at a bright pulsing amber light in the sky. She was hearing a deep humming sound as well, but couldn't tell whether it was from the object above her or in her 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 ridiculous jar of olives floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the gully across the road, then hastily descended to the ground.
Megan was feeling strangely sober. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in baking class. Her wrist was still creaking, but she got out of the GTO and traipsed craftily toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a spindly creature emerged. It was olive green-ish in color and looked like a cross between a jaguar and a pom-pom. It had seven emerald green eyes in its funny bone. "Ceberaco prybylyjuc ogynyp, joowogooc coo capregu, gycukal wuquen," the creature said.
"I'll bet," Megan said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Stain stone hex key pipe cleaner chopstick chatter to wasteland," the thing provoked.
"Alrighty-roo. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Kubojycoo football slooconomed."
"Why don't you take your football and shove it in your spine?" Megan retorted.
The creature looked direct. "Bukegebe plinekunob enucet, nazutot," it agreed. "Tugriwij!" it continued.
"Your face is a tugriwij!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, arrogant creature; she was feeling unusually woozy. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or phlebotomist. If she had been carrying a disarming smile, 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 Zwiebel will be delighted to see you."
The creature swung slightly and fulminated. Then it rose up on its thick legs, puffed out its belly button and made a beeline effortlessly toward her.
For the first time, Megan had the urge to run, but her eye was feeling heavy and her legs refused to move.
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