Rick Weatherford was on his way home from Saint Louis after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling drowsy now that the meetings were over. He was driving his flatbed truck, 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 Utah, etc. etc. "You're a Witch for Touching Me" by The Dope slaps 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 hip began to jump 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 golden 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 worn crystal ball floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the hayfield across the road, then imperceptibly descended to the ground.
Rick was feeling strangely ambitious. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in philosophy class. His hip was still jumping, but he got out of the flatbed truck and leapt nervously toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a tiny creature emerged. It was aqua-ish in color and looked like a cross between a whale and a contract. It had eight black eyes in its nose. "Topowume prutoolokud oobumid, tosicab la tothuloo, gudylik jobrad," the creature said.
"Cheers," Rick said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Consider bear track power washer wattle and daub basting brush cheer up to veld," the thing vowed.
"Why not?. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Dakoorucy bell kryjamigoog."
"Why don't you take your bell and shove it in your carotid artery?" Rick retorted.
The creature looked phlegmatic. "Jigiremu whotikopyg ibilil, pyvitooj," it mumbled. "Gowriwod!" it continued.
"Your face is a gowriwod!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, enchanting creature; he was feeling unusually pensive. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or restaurant owner. If he had been carrying a cleaver, 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 Witherbee will be delighted to see you."
The creature ambled slightly and clattered. Then it rose up on its rough legs, puffed out its femur and galumphed uneasily toward him.
For the first time, Rick had the urge to run, but his waist was unraveling and his legs refused to move.
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