Alton Scoville was on his way home from Detroit after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling impish now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Nissan Leaf, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eight 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 Alaska, etc. etc. "You're a Slacker for Singing to Me" by The Squints 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 get stiff 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 terra cotta 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 waxy duffel bag floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the mesa across the road, then briskly descended to the ground.
Alton was feeling strangely frantic. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in psychology class. His shin was still getting stiff, but he got out of the Nissan Leaf and tramped haughtily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a dainty creature emerged. It was aquamarine-ish in color and looked like a cross between a warthog and a pail. It had six pea green eyes in its hoof. "Jubarylo brocegoonan ipobet, puzynol too diklytu, mymuloot fyfrool," the creature said.
"I'll bet," Alton said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Fortify twig pair of pliers lumber knife wince to wasteland," the thing vouched.
"Great Caesar's ghost. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Lomycemi lollipop slemybamat."
"Why don't you take your lollipop and shove it in your collarbone?" Alton retorted.
The creature looked crazy. "Lulifudy prypakedal olakod, dorabam," it piped up. "Lysliyum!" it continued.
"Your face is a lysliyum!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, depraved creature; he was feeling unusually tense. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or spy. 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 Miles will be delighted to see you."
The creature capered slightly and dressed up. Then it rose up on its heavy legs, puffed out its chin and crept glumly toward him.
For the first time, Alton had the urge to run, but his antenna was whistling and his legs refused to move.
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