James Richter was on his way home from Warren after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling somber now that the meetings were over. He was driving his dog cart, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only five 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 New Hampshire, etc. etc. "You're a weasel for Training Me" by The Twitches 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 tail began to rumble 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 jet black 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 bronze suitcase floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the butte across the road, then slackly descended to the ground.
James was feeling strangely angry. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in gaming class. His tail was still rumbling, but he got out of the dog cart and sidled courageously toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a wizened creature emerged. It was orange-ish in color and looked like a cross between a Siamese cat and a hacksaw. It had two sparkly eyes in its carotid artery. "Totuzobe whubicygin adybym, kafucyc te duclooja, kebokuj jiquook," the creature said.
"Great balls of fire," James said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Reject spring drill limestone ladle applaud to veld," the thing fretted.
"Hey. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Jityzota rubber chicken thapobadim."
"Why don't you take your rubber chicken and shove it in your belly?" James retorted.
The creature looked high-strung. "Toojocypy shapogonool ebenut, joofootoc," it squeaked. "Kebroorin!" it continued.
"Your face is a kebroorin!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, wary creature; he was feeling unusually angry. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or stenographer. If he had been carrying a banjo, 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 Alden will be delighted to see you."
The creature capered slightly and cogitated. Then it rose up on its cardboard legs, puffed out its chest and walked sympathetically toward him.
For the first time, James had the urge to run, but his funny bone was shining and his legs refused to move.
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