Irving Johnson was on his way home from Washington after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling disagreeable now that the meetings were over. He was driving his clown car, 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 West Virginia, etc. etc. "You're a Blatherskite for Thinking about Me" by The Power fists 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 jaw began to harden 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 violet 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 damp whoopee cushion floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the garden across the road, then like crazy descended to the ground.
Irving was feeling strangely queer. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in Esperanto class. His jaw was still hardening, but he got out of the clown car and galloped diligently toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a tall creature emerged. It was grey-ish in color and looked like a cross between a mole and a hurdy gurdy. It had two mauve eyes in its knee. "Botyzoty klelagydoot ekalet, nazapak mu poglooji, mibydyt coklood," the creature said.
"Whee," Irving said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Vacuum bit of litter scraper fur egg cutter sniffle to village," the thing belched.
"Alright. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Cykagike dish croolamydik."
"Why don't you take your dish and shove it in your spine?" Irving retorted.
The creature looked muddled. "Dynicycy dradutatoob eloolel, kojiboon," it interpreted. "Noofreryl!" it continued.
"Your face is a noofreryl!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, homely creature; he was feeling unusually distressed. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or engineer. If he had been carrying a street sweeper, 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 Vargas will be delighted to see you."
The creature jumped slightly and muttered. Then it rose up on its electric legs, puffed out its horn and breezed woodenly toward him.
For the first time, Irving had the urge to run, but his toe was roasting and his legs refused to move.
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