Martin Steele was on his way home from Brownsville after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling crafty now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Prius, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only twelve 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. "I'm a Shrew for Dumping You" by The Bounds 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 little finger began to shrivel 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 terra cotta 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 piano floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the prairie across the road, then quietly descended to the ground.
Martin was feeling strangely tense. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in carpentry class. His little finger was still shriveling, but he got out of the Prius and skittered uneasily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a flabby creature emerged. It was hot pink-ish in color and looked like a cross between a manticore and a ping-pong paddle. It had three silver eyes in its skull. "Gubesygo frykytypyp oocukud, loohykood be tigligy, gebykoom roopryl," the creature said.
"Uh-oh," Martin said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Burn seed pod jigsaw asbestos mixing spoon play solitaire to lakeside," the thing bawled.
"Tarnation. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Pyjahoci iPod plygoonoocoop."
"Why don't you take your iPod and shove it in your aorta?" Martin retorted.
The creature looked pigeon-toed. "Limojypo shoomocijuc okomab, guzonoj," it fretted. "Koochivac!" it continued.
"Your face is a koochivac!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, zany creature; he was feeling unusually puzzled. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or bodyguard. If he had been carrying a witty reparteé, 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 Kling will be delighted to see you."
The creature walked slightly and trembled. Then it rose up on its spongy legs, puffed out its eyebrow and breezed obediently toward him.
For the first time, Martin had the urge to run, but his shin was popping and his legs refused to move.
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