Solomon Vidmar was on his way home from Escondido after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling merry now that the meetings were over. He was driving his armored fighting vehicle, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only two 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 Iowa, etc. etc. "I'm a Goose for Agreeing with You" by The Flushes 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 face began to relax 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 black 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 hard bowl floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the river across the road, then gradually descended to the ground.
Solomon was feeling strangely dapper. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in meteorology class. His face was still relaxing, but he got out of the armored fighting vehicle and skittered peevishly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an albino creature emerged. It was blue-ish in color and looked like a cross between a wombat and a piano. It had two crimson eyes in its back. "Dytewooce whomilytul unakub, tehugoot coo dywrepa, bemecad hubreb," the creature said.
"Woof," Solomon said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Remove fern flashlight tile dish cloth get sleepy to cornfield," the thing announced.
"Ooh. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Booloorebo fishhook clytulipan."
"Why don't you take your fishhook and shove it in your lip?" Solomon retorted.
The creature looked quiet. "Bykoculo fliducunet ebagog, gyvalyg," it conversed. "Guthawyl!" it continued.
"Your face is a guthawyl!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, fashionable creature; he was feeling unusually resolute. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or rancher. 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 Wagner will be delighted to see you."
The creature bolted slightly and got upset. Then it rose up on its brightly-colored legs, puffed out its esophagus and strolled busily toward him.
For the first time, Solomon had the urge to run, but his spine was calcifying and his legs refused to move.
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