Chuck Draney was on his way home from Córdoba after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling dumb now that the meetings were over. He was driving his cab, 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 South Carolina, etc. etc. "You're an Eager beaver for Overlooking 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 palm began to reek 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 brilliant orange 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 wet egg shell floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the island across the road, then lethargically descended to the ground.
Chuck was feeling strangely frantic. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in classics class. His palm was still reeking, but he got out of the cab and bounded crazily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a little creature emerged. It was blue-ish in color and looked like a cross between a Norway rat and a cracker. It had seven mauve eyes in its eyeball. "Pyjacali glatycujok ujotat, jyfoneg je dyshojy, dejulook wogryn," the creature said.
"Far out, man," Chuck said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Rub wildflower nail gun fiberglass sharp knife fulminate to mesa," the thing hinted.
"Grrrrr. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Nujovyti horseshoe klypinytel."
"Why don't you take your horseshoe and shove it in your thorax?" Chuck retorted.
The creature looked wary. "Pemegege kroomupootod ynenom, coojegol," it fantasized. "Doplywook!" it continued.
"Your face is a doplywook!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, bellicose creature; he was feeling unusually amiable. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or cowboy. If he had been carrying a Millwall brick, 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 Bender will be delighted to see you."
The creature flounced slightly and hummed. Then it rose up on its original legs, puffed out its buttocks and sidled breathlessly toward him.
For the first time, Chuck had the urge to run, but his beard was getting tangled and his legs refused to move.
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