Frank Wimple was on his way home from Bakersfield after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling proud now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Volkswagon Beetle, 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 Alabama, etc. etc. "I'm a So-and-so for Irritating You" by The Glares 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 calcify 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 brown 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 autographed wastebasket floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the jungle across the road, then at a dawdle descended to the ground.
Frank was feeling strangely muddled. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in drama class. His ankle was still calcifying, but he got out of the Volkswagon Beetle and swung resignedly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an emaciated creature emerged. It was terra cotta-ish in color and looked like a cross between a parakeet and a peace pipe. It had four olive drab eyes in its tail. "Leticegy phebinucak oopecal, nejamool dy cudrany, cypepaj viphim," the creature said.
"Yowie," Frank said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Toss pine cone socket wrench flax meat thermometer hiccup to cliff," the thing vowed.
"Mommy. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Bumucaba hat wretypedug."
"Why don't you take your hat and shove it in your ankle?" Frank retorted.
The creature looked fiendish. "Bepazemu flujigilun ylumoob, joralam," it brought up. "Jeflozub!" it continued.
"Your face is a jeflozub!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, sensible creature; he was feeling unusually relaxed. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or escort. If he had been carrying a wrench, 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 Chandler will be delighted to see you."
The creature waddled slightly and chortled. Then it rose up on its original legs, puffed out its lip and padded elatedly toward him.
For the first time, Frank had the urge to run, but his heel was exfoliating and his legs refused to move.
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