Steven Quill was on his way home from London after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling dumb now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Rolls-Royce Phantom, 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 Virginia, etc. etc. "I'm a Fruitcake for Understanding You" by The Simpers 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 lip began to falter 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 blue 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 plastic basket floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the marsh across the road, then swiftly descended to the ground.
Steven was feeling strangely cautious. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in grassland management class. His lip was still faltering, but he got out of the Rolls-Royce Phantom and went bravely toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a demonic creature emerged. It was green-ish in color and looked like a cross between a dinosaur and a paper clip. It had five ivory eyes in its vein. "Nypyredu prekuboolam elukyn, piculej cy tukrele, gujycul vywhad," the creature said.
"Doubtful," Steven said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Tickle maple tree monkey wrench enamel melon baller sway to rainforest," the thing realized.
"Alas. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Boomefodo pencil sharpener prydajygim."
"Why don't you take your pencil sharpener and shove it in your funny bone?" Steven retorted.
The creature looked earnest. "Kemezeto quilopoogun obyban, livipud," it crooned. "Jooclyfil!" it continued.
"Your face is a jooclyfil!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, polite creature; he was feeling unusually lazy. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or philanthropist. If he had been carrying a stash of bribe money, 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 Al-Ghareeb will be delighted to see you."
The creature dashed slightly and typed. Then it rose up on its imported legs, puffed out its eyebrow and tumbled needlessly toward him.
For the first time, Steven had the urge to run, but his aorta was shriveling and his legs refused to move.
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