Jim Noonan was on his way home from Pembroke after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling hysterical now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Plymouth, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only nine 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 Puerto Rico, etc. etc. "You're a Ghoul for Talking to Me" 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 knee began to get hairy 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 lavender 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 smumpy Big Gulp floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the lagoon across the road, then leadenly descended to the ground.
Jim was feeling strangely angry. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in Russian class. His knee was still getting hairy, but he got out of the Plymouth and whirled wearily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a dashing creature emerged. It was chartreuse-ish in color and looked like a cross between a Dalmatian and a peach. It had three olive green eyes in its paw. "Poomoogooki trekookibid umugoop, kyyidad le cedrage, najygeb hakloog," the creature said.
"Sure," Jim said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Grasp piece of bark curling iron plywood sharp knife wake up to gully," the thing boasted.
"Yowee. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Cybuyyme coloring book phelipoodik."
"Why don't you take your coloring book and shove it in your esophagus?" Jim retorted.
The creature looked awkward. "Koonugojy flylikemok ykybut, gygoonem," it cackled. "Michooril!" it continued.
"Your face is a michooril!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, brash creature; he was feeling unusually tense. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or mayor. If he had been carrying a switchblade, 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 Boudreaux will be delighted to see you."
The creature hobbled slightly and freaked out. Then it rose up on its hand-painted legs, puffed out its midriff and zoomed brightly toward him.
For the first time, Jim had the urge to run, but his waist was ripening and his legs refused to move.
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