Dustin Kuta was on his way home from Cape Town after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling timid now that the meetings were over. He was driving his garbage truck, 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 Arizona, etc. etc. "You're a Fuddy-duddy for Punishing Me" by The Grins 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 bladder began to turn grey 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 crimson 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 shiny helmet floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the housing development across the road, then smoothly descended to the ground.
Dustin was feeling strangely somber. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in sociology class. His bladder was still turning grey, but he got out of the garbage truck and lumbered positively toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an athletic creature emerged. It was crimson-ish in color and looked like a cross between an ass and a diamond. It had eight turquoise eyes in its nostril. "Ginayija dronoojokook ydyjood, myzecot cu mykryja, pygoopoj joflim," the creature said.
"Beshrew me," Dustin said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Reposition badger hole sickle old rag dull knife murmur to dumpster," the thing rebutted.
"Weird. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Noojihule spinning wheel thoodekaleg."
"Why don't you take your spinning wheel and shove it in your lip?" Dustin retorted.
The creature looked sleepy. "Cenocooky ghanibolub opoomad, pywumul," it exploded. "Bisheweg!" it continued.
"Your face is a bisheweg!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, proud creature; he was feeling unusually hysterical. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or Internet celebrity. If he had been carrying a bow and arrows, 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 Knight will be delighted to see you."
The creature slumped slightly and squinted. Then it rose up on its brittle legs, puffed out its piehole and slumped sternly toward him.
For the first time, Dustin had the urge to run, but his tummy was shimmering and his legs refused to move.
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