Octavius Frank was on his way home from Santa Clara after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling maniacal now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Saab, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eleven 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 North Carolina, etc. etc. "I'm a Weasel for Smiling at You" by The Caresses 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 hip began to kink 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 maroon 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 porcelain stack of papers floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the cornfield across the road, then nimbly descended to the ground.
Octavius was feeling strangely affable. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in painting class. His hip was still kinking, but he got out of the Saab and hobbled brightly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an eye-catching creature emerged. It was golden-ish in color and looked like a cross between a wombat and a jar of olives. It had three white eyes in its heel. "Nipoozubi krejapidood agamoc, maroonoj gu boobrytoo, titenik jucrog," the creature said.
"Bingo," Octavius said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Honor egg shell Q-tip platinum pastry blender adjust the clock to village," the thing pleaded.
"Achoo. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Cagyvoomo pigeon slybademug."
"Why don't you take your pigeon and shove it in your piehole?" Octavius retorted.
The creature looked menacing. "Gicuwidi grybilakook oolynoom, gejanub," it prattled. "Byplozook!" it continued.
"Your face is a byplozook!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, sweet creature; he was feeling unusually sarcastic. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or electrician. If he had been carrying a hand sanitizer, 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 Butterfield will be delighted to see you."
The creature strolled slightly and fidgeted. Then it rose up on its stiff legs, puffed out its eyeball and tumbled slyly toward him.
For the first time, Octavius had the urge to run, but his eyelid was whistling and his legs refused to move.
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