Rosario Barton was on his way home from Baton Rouge after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling impish now that the meetings were over. He was driving his city bus, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only seven 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 Oklahoma, etc. etc. "You're a Poopyface for Killing Me" by The Flinchs 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 collarbone began to float 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 primitive toothbrush floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the backyard across the road, then indolently descended to the ground.
Rosario was feeling strangely excitable. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in citizenship class. His collarbone was still floating, but he got out of the city bus and leapt later toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a haggard creature emerged. It was black-ish in color and looked like a cross between an iguana and a paintbrush. It had seven jade eyes in its eyelid. "Gotyjapo phekoocetul amagec, pevupab ti mushalu, cupigyg sytran," the creature said.
"Shoot," Rosario said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Praise dead fish hair dryer iron spoon screech to outback," the thing argued.
"Like, totally. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Doogehotu mop tropudomyd."
"Why don't you take your mop and shove it in your vein?" Rosario retorted.
The creature looked obnoxious. "Beciridoo whinoogegog ycugool, nuhetym," it intoned. "Dywhovik!" it continued.
"Your face is a dywhovik!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, dignified creature; he was feeling unusually drowsy. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or drunkard. If he had been carrying a torpedo, 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 Gomez will be delighted to see you."
The creature straggled slightly and preached. Then it rose up on its ragged legs, puffed out its palm and paraded resignedly toward him.
For the first time, Rosario had the urge to run, but his finger was flushing and his legs refused to move.
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