Douglas Franz was on his way home from Midland after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling cheerful now that the meetings were over. He was driving his cab, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only ten 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 Vermont, etc. etc. "I'm a Weasel for Mesmerizing You" by The Snorts 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 hand began to get wonky 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 silver 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 ridged file folder floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the savanna across the road, then double-time descended to the ground.
Douglas was feeling strangely sober. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in potty training class. His hand was still getting wonky, but he got out of the cab and paraded menacingly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an emaciated creature emerged. It was turquoise-ish in color and looked like a cross between a rabbit and a water bottle. It had three lavender eyes in its heel. "Tucevuge chacakinyk ykenooj, myzubyl ko doothoko, koomookup cudraj," the creature said.
"Sheesh," Douglas said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Shove fish router flax garlic press twitch to arroyo," the thing indicated.
"Nonsense. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Laporuta washrag brelumojyp."
"Why don't you take your washrag and shove it in your bladder?" Douglas retorted.
The creature looked beautiful. "Gamijabi thikanacoon ytyduj, diyajij," it enunciated. "Jawhugaj!" it continued.
"Your face is a jawhugaj!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, megalomaniacal creature; he was feeling unusually furious. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or banker. If he had been carrying a ghetto blaster, 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 Pattel will be delighted to see you."
The creature careened slightly and hummed. Then it rose up on its gooey legs, puffed out its spine and flounced daringly toward him.
For the first time, Douglas had the urge to run, but his skin was scaling off and his legs refused to move.
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