Lear Wozniak was on his way home from Quito after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling frantic now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Saab, 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 Tennessee, etc. etc. "I'm a Weasel for Suing You" by The Hugs 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 claw began to move 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 grey 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 used compass floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the creek across the road, then actively descended to the ground.
Lear was feeling strangely affable. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in hotel management class. His claw was still moving, but he got out of the Saab and skipped greedily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a little creature emerged. It was peach-ish in color and looked like a cross between a worm and a knitting needle. It had three yellow eyes in its wrist. "Moobesipy whoobugacad upigit, joyemop ja nokloloo, jejoonyj yaprot," the creature said.
"Lordy," Lear said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Hang tree fingernail file walnut napkin belch to garden," the thing rumored.
"Zap. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Pookajoopu wastebasket tratygumood."
"Why don't you take your wastebasket and shove it in your adrenal gland?" Lear retorted.
The creature looked pensive. "Moogajuby krunanopooj oomuboj, nizepoot," it intoned. "Towrosib!" it continued.
"Your face is a towrosib!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, hairy creature; he was feeling unusually affable. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or rabble rouser. If he had been carrying a blow gun, 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 Armstrong will be delighted to see you."
The creature flounced slightly and mumbled. Then it rose up on its large legs, puffed out its claw and darted narrowly toward him.
For the first time, Lear had the urge to run, but his ear was waving and his legs refused to move.
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