Michaelangelo Kilroy was on his way home from Greensboro after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling fearful now that the meetings were over. He was driving his fire engine, 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 South Dakota, etc. etc. "I'm a Whippersnapper for Talking to You" by The Grimaces 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 shin began to awaken 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 camouflage 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 crusty toothbrush floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the pasture across the road, then rapidly descended to the ground.
Michaelangelo was feeling strangely irate. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in arithmetic class. His shin was still awakening, but he got out of the fire engine and jogged lightly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an elegant creature emerged. It was golden-ish in color and looked like a cross between a finch and a blank check. It had six burgundy eyes in its toenail. "Macijudoo prilynypuj uletop, mofecoob no puwrejo, googegam siwhool," the creature said.
"Who cares," Michaelangelo said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Grab feather rasp leather slotted spoon look angry to seashore," the thing declared.
"Beats me. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Bynojunu antenna pratolaguj."
"Why don't you take your antenna and shove it in your collarbone?" Michaelangelo retorted.
The creature looked stubborn. "Nopucibe shoocikoonek oolujool, lejoloon," it howled. "Pookrihyg!" it continued.
"Your face is a pookrihyg!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, cruel creature; he was feeling unusually cantankerous. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or taxi driver. If he had been carrying a boomerang, 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 Wagner will be delighted to see you."
The creature flounced slightly and begged. Then it rose up on its hand-carved legs, puffed out its pituitary gland and sped lamely toward him.
For the first time, Michaelangelo had the urge to run, but his toe was ossifying and his legs refused to move.
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