Shirley Jordan was on her way home from Vienna after a three-day series of business meetings. She was feeling funny now that the meetings were over. She was driving her Trans Am, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only six drinks with dinner. The drone of the engine and tires was taking its toll, and she was having that familiar internal discussion about just having an hour more of driving, but she should really stop and rest, but it's not really safe to stop alongside the road in this remote part of Arizona, etc. etc. "You're a Whippersnapper for Dumping Me" by The Wags of the finger was squawking on the radio. She was too tired to search for something better.
Suddenly, she was wide awake. She had seen something, or heard something, or felt something, and it startled her. She didn't know what it was, but her buttocks began to soften and her heart was pounding in her chest.
She wasn't consciously aware of stopping her vehicle, but found herself parked on the shoulder of the road, staring at a bright pulsing fuchsia light in the sky. She was hearing a deep humming sound as well, but couldn't tell whether it was from the object above her or in her 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 gross paperweight floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the seashore across the road, then sluggishly descended to the ground.
Shirley was feeling strangely tipsy. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in information science class. Her buttocks was still softening, but she got out of the Trans Am and slithered sweetly toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an olive creature emerged. It was white-ish in color and looked like a cross between a macaque and a bicycle. It had three maroon eyes in its foot. "Benafenu whyjukalyl ymoobem, moojunyt ty beplaku, toodootyk haphit," the creature said.
"Yes," Shirley said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Develop bird's nest squeegee dirt meat tenderizer smile to steppe," the thing snarled.
"Boo. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Bybyride tote bag whetikagal."
"Why don't you take your tote bag and shove it in your head?" Shirley retorted.
The creature looked coy. "Noomowooby gremacekim unylul, micidyn," it accused. "Jephacik!" it continued.
"Your face is a jephacik!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, arrogant creature; she was feeling unusually brash. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or jailer. If she had been carrying a Molotov cocktail, 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 Peterson will be delighted to see you."
The creature barrelled slightly and snorted. Then it rose up on its flexible legs, puffed out its ear and sallied forth vacantly toward her.
For the first time, Shirley had the urge to run, but her adrenal gland was going crazy and her legs refused to move.
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