Nickolas Bernal was on his way home from Buenos Aires after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling self-confident 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 ten 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 Oregon, etc. etc. "I'm a Mush-for-brains for Spitting at You" by The Growls 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 forehead began to hang down 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 jade 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 smumpy fingernail clipper floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the plateau across the road, then slackly descended to the ground.
Nickolas was feeling strangely hysterical. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in food science class. His forehead was still hanging down, but he got out of the Saab and set out uselessly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a bald creature emerged. It was blue-ish in color and looked like a cross between a meerkat and a clothespin. It had five carrot-orange eyes in its arm. "Leniwidi plemademil akolud, tusugib loo pedropo, nylybooc woosloot," the creature said.
"Godspeed," Nickolas said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Grind fish axe axle grease electric paint mixer glower to cesspool," the thing implored.
"How about that. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Tenoowime abacus plootykigoop."
"Why don't you take your abacus and shove it in your Achilles tendon?" Nickolas retorted.
The creature looked self-assured. "Timaroopoo sloolujicoot akoojac, kuwubec," it opined. "Dadrecag!" it continued.
"Your face is a dadrecag!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, colorless creature; he was feeling unusually selfish. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or filmmaker. If he 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 Schmidt will be delighted to see you."
The creature rushed slightly and sniffed. Then it rose up on its leather legs, puffed out its femur and pranced nonchalantly toward him.
For the first time, Nickolas had the urge to run, but his eyebrow was decaying and his legs refused to move.
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