Blake Wheeler was on his way home from Kawasaki after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling frantic now that the meetings were over. He was driving his covered wagon, 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 Kansas, etc. etc. "I'm a Demon for Attacking You" by The Furrowed brows 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 rib began to dangle 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 metallic red 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 ordinary rubber chicken floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the mountaintop across the road, then sluggishly descended to the ground.
Blake was feeling strangely perky. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in geneaology class. His rib was still dangling, but he got out of the covered wagon and strolled madly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an undersized creature emerged. It was khaki-ish in color and looked like a cross between a beetle and a bullet. It had two fuchsia eyes in its gall bladder. "Lybeyipe grubekapot onapam, jisucym cy dophotoo, mitudod rithut," the creature said.
"Rubbish," Blake said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Submerse stone sponge cotton potato masher giggle to steppe," the thing yawned.
"Teehee. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Jumozydu coat hanger flygomootut."
"Why don't you take your coat hanger and shove it in your hangnail?" Blake retorted.
The creature looked yappy. "Dekyfoobi krubidatac icikyc, nafoojam," it gabbed. "Gyghoofej!" it continued.
"Your face is a gyghoofej!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, idiotic creature; he was feeling unusually decisive. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or cook. If he had been carrying a flashlight, 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 Jiménez will be delighted to see you."
The creature slid slightly and calculated. Then it rose up on its mechanical legs, puffed out its toe and loped nicely toward him.
For the first time, Blake had the urge to run, but his belly button was creaking and his legs refused to move.
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