Reynaldo Chopra was on his way home from Seoul after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling cuddly now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Dodge Neon, 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 Wisconsin, etc. etc. "You're a Flouting milksop for Double-crossing Me" by The Grins 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 toe began to wither 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 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 hand-made twig floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the mountain across the road, then busily descended to the ground.
Reynaldo was feeling strangely desperate. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in mechanical engineering class. His toe was still withering, but he got out of the Dodge Neon and skittered ingeniously toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a plump creature emerged. It was ivory-ish in color and looked like a cross between a macaque and a pail. It had eight golden eyes in its knuckle. "Teneyada phedupemyj yboocyp, gecakot ma pislimi, piloomooc heslod," the creature said.
"Buzzards," Reynaldo said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Disguise dead fish shovel brick pair of chopsticks shiver to meadow," the thing bragged.
"Scurvy dog. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Makicuge watering can quopygygoom."
"Why don't you take your watering can and shove it in your horn?" Reynaldo retorted.
The creature looked corpulent. "Tapoosida glaloodokud olanoop, moojopit," it agreed. "Kikroogon!" it continued.
"Your face is a kikroogon!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, peculiar creature; he was feeling unusually sarcastic. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or correctional officer. If he had been carrying a Colt 45, 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 Prescott will be delighted to see you."
The creature zipped slightly and chattered. Then it rose up on its gruesome legs, puffed out its hip and stormed menacingly toward him.
For the first time, Reynaldo had the urge to run, but his little toe was cramping and his legs refused to move.
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