Bart McIntire was on his way home from El Paso after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling fearless now that the meetings were over. He was driving his chariot, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only three 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 Maryland, etc. etc. "You're a Bonehead for Spilling a margarita on Me" by The Snuffles 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 intestine began to falter 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 olive green 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 aromatic snail floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the treetop across the road, then deliberately descended to the ground.
Bart was feeling strangely calm. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in home economics class. His intestine was still faltering, but he got out of the chariot and bounced glibly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a plain creature emerged. It was burgundy-ish in color and looked like a cross between a polecat and a Hostess Ding Dong. It had six teal eyes in its ankle. "Belocika tripetyloon oonapic, kasotel ke puklemy, kududud joocroob," the creature said.
"Aaah," Bart said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Recognize weed staple gun moss grater raise an eyebrow to arroyo," the thing taunted.
"Bowwow. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Tobirooma can of beer flinonyjat."
"Why don't you take your can of beer and shove it in your gall bladder?" Bart retorted.
The creature looked loving. "Damerajo flacelupag abejyg, jagydab," it provoked. "Mofrozyt!" it continued.
"Your face is a mofrozyt!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, colorless creature; he was feeling unusually humble. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or administrative assistant. If he had been carrying a set of nunchucks, 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 Ortega will be delighted to see you."
The creature crept slightly and whirled. Then it rose up on its funny legs, puffed out its gut and careened vacantly toward him.
For the first time, Bart had the urge to run, but his thumb was roasting and his legs refused to move.
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