Tom Bobble was on his way home from Bangkok after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling selfish now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Ford Pinto, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only two 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 Pennsylvania, etc. etc. "You're a Gossip for Remembering Me" by The Wags of the finger 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 back began to quiver 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 orange 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 ordinary pail floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the cesspool across the road, then like mad descended to the ground.
Tom was feeling strangely cuddly. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in botany class. His back was still quivering, but he got out of the Ford Pinto and swung repeatedly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an alert creature emerged. It was hot pink-ish in color and looked like a cross between a honeybee and a sponge. It had four aqua eyes in its toe. "Jijufoodoo ploobybytel opanal, jecudut bu guwhyty, molaben jidroc," the creature said.
"Bravo," Tom said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Attack acorn sand blaster granite spoon creep to pond," the thing implored.
"Cool beans. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Kipeholo clothespin plojoodoojoj."
"Why don't you take your clothespin and shove it in your nose?" Tom retorted.
The creature looked big. "Mybejadu chimecajyd ujootud, dycukug," it lectured. "Popracut!" it continued.
"Your face is a popracut!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, tense creature; he was feeling unusually nervous. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or bookkeeper. If he had been carrying a hand grenade, 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 Ford will be delighted to see you."
The creature set out slightly and relaxed. Then it rose up on its smooth legs, puffed out its brain and barrelled blankly toward him.
For the first time, Tom had the urge to run, but his hoof was cooling down and his legs refused to move.
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