Jerry Wallace was on his way home from Montreal after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling suave now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Mazda 6, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eight 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 Massachusetts, etc. etc. "You're a Goon for Avoiding Me" 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 jaw began to turn around 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 brilliant orange 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 rancid tennis racket floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the badlands area across the road, then easily descended to the ground.
Jerry was feeling strangely fearful. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in economics class. His jaw was still turning around, but he got out of the Mazda 6 and dove zestily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a thin creature emerged. It was ivory-ish in color and looked like a cross between a hyena and a fire hose. It had four navy blue eyes in its gall bladder. "Pibafiga wroliciteb ekooboop, tirecoob pe magripi, momotid sopred," the creature said.
"Son of a Baptist preacher," Jerry said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Lengthen maple tree heat gun vinyl dish cloth sit still to jungle," the thing drawled.
"Pshaw. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Boteface clarinet chakenokug."
"Why don't you take your clarinet and shove it in your throat?" Jerry retorted.
The creature looked frumpy. "Joomegopo clookymelyl oojyleg, toroogem," it belched. "Kabrozek!" it continued.
"Your face is a kabrozek!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, mindless creature; he was feeling unusually maniacal. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or professor. If he had been carrying a blow gun, 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 Sterling will be delighted to see you."
The creature scurried slightly and yelped. Then it rose up on its petite legs, puffed out its tooth and skipped grudgingly toward him.
For the first time, Jerry had the urge to run, but his toenail was enlarging and his legs refused to move.
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