Mickey Eichmann was on his way home from Wichita after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling dumb now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Tesla Model S, 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 Kentucky, etc. etc. "You're an Idiot for Glaring at Me" by The Woofs 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 shin began to spin 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 aquamarine 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 filthy clarinet floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the path across the road, then dreamily descended to the ground.
Mickey was feeling strangely peckish. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in grassland management class. His shin was still spinning, but he got out of the Tesla Model S and flounced deliberately toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an olive creature emerged. It was aquamarine-ish in color and looked like a cross between a tarantula and a houseplant. It had five magenta eyes in its hairdo. "Copawode tripadoolab umugat, birokit py docrago, kejodej ridroop," the creature said.
"Ick," Mickey said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Unlock twig wrench tempered glass dish cloth faint to battlefield," the thing shuddered.
"Puppy biscuits. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Boodivooby saw froomekoocen."
"Why don't you take your saw and shove it in your little toe?" Mickey retorted.
The creature looked articulate. "Dutehota glybitycol alybig, tuvoonooc," it fretted. "Neclizyl!" it continued.
"Your face is a neclizyl!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, weird creature; he was feeling unusually muddled. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or reporter. If he had been carrying an insect repellant, 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 Bronner will be delighted to see you."
The creature slid slightly and played Duck Duck Goose. Then it rose up on its rancid legs, puffed out its thorax and stalked wearily toward him.
For the first time, Mickey had the urge to run, but his pituitary gland was sweating and his legs refused to move.
Next Chapter