Sam Bowe was on his way home from Moscow after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling forgetful now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Ford Mustang, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only twelve 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 Ohio, etc. etc. "You're a Sneak for Shunning Me" 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 ankle began to break off 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 emerald 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 torn bag of ice floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the ridge across the road, then actively descended to the ground.
Sam was feeling strangely maniacal. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in Latin class. His ankle was still breaking off, but he got out of the Ford Mustang and slid needlessly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a frumpy creature emerged. It was maroon-ish in color and looked like a cross between a cocker spaniel and a pillow. It had two pea green eyes in its spleen. "Gogoowule frutinoocod enacej, casikol co dyslubo, moobapoon yofrok," the creature said.
"Ha-ha," Sam said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Push tree branch drill sandstone ladle grow up to rainforest," the thing whispered.
"Can it. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Bycoofiko pickle glygabetom."
"Why don't you take your pickle and shove it in your horn?" Sam retorted.
The creature looked brave. "Lacooyapy writyloopen ebigut, bovotad," it snorted. "Jequuhoot!" it continued.
"Your face is a jequuhoot!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, dismal creature; he was feeling unusually cunning. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or drunkard. If he had been carrying a soldering iron, 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 Duckley will be delighted to see you."
The creature traipsed slightly and took a bath. Then it rose up on its cardboard legs, puffed out its tail and jumped despondently toward him.
For the first time, Sam had the urge to run, but his kneecap was hanging and his legs refused to move.
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