Mason Loring was on his way home from Havana after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling crafty now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Ford Bronco, 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 Maryland, etc. etc. "I'm a Ruffian for Maligning You" by The Guffaws 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 knuckle began to break 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 periwinkle 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 damp chess set floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the badlands area across the road, then apathetically descended to the ground.
Mason was feeling strangely cuddly. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in ABCs class. His knuckle was still breaking, but he got out of the Ford Bronco and tore cleverly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a sleek creature emerged. It was rose-ish in color and looked like a cross between a bull and a file folder. It had two polka dotted eyes in its hand. "Doducoda wrygybytoop upogod, tuvukyt ci tuquejy, legijyb syfloj," the creature said.
"Yikes," Mason said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Stain deer track dust cloth gold food processor sneeze to path," the thing bellowed.
"Pshaw. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Jypoohedo Big Gulp wregoogajyj."
"Why don't you take your Big Gulp and shove it in your chest?" Mason retorted.
The creature looked shiftless. "Nycufiko ghyjikeguc ocoopam, pigided," it insisted. "Kaphifek!" it continued.
"Your face is a kaphifek!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, dependable creature; he was feeling unusually fiendish. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or evangelist. If he had been carrying a hedge trimmer, 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 Marsden will be delighted to see you."
The creature traipsed slightly and sighed. Then it rose up on its synthetic legs, puffed out its face and dove joyously toward him.
For the first time, Mason had the urge to run, but his lung was molding and his legs refused to move.
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