Dakota Noon was on his way home from Belgrade after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling peculiar now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Porsche 944, 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 Michigan, etc. etc. "I'm an Old biddy for Frying You" by The Winces 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 hand began to contract 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 lime-green 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 immense fire hose floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the moonscape across the road, then leadenly descended to the ground.
Dakota was feeling strangely woozy. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in photography class. His hand was still contracting, but he got out of the Porsche 944 and slunk happily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a homely creature emerged. It was salmon-ish in color and looked like a cross between a coyote and a chain. It had eight lime-green eyes in its thyroid gland. "Biposuly wrudookemik ydookik, koovupad poo naflejy, dubotic joplem," the creature said.
"Caramba," Dakota said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Control flower love meter cardboard paring knife jiggle to treetop," the thing decided.
"Banzai. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Gapiwumy box whumapibob."
"Why don't you take your box and shove it in your eyebrow?" Dakota retorted.
The creature looked coy. "Cipavoodoo prydypookep oopookag, kucojib," it purred. "Coodrahit!" it continued.
"Your face is a coodrahit!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, nonchalant creature; he was feeling unusually suave. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or gastroenterologist. If he had been carrying a Bowie knife, 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 Bates will be delighted to see you."
The creature jumped slightly and smiled. Then it rose up on its aromatic legs, puffed out its wig and sped carefully toward him.
For the first time, Dakota had the urge to run, but his ear was dribbling and his legs refused to move.
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