Marcus Gustafson was on his way home from Bismark after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling woozy now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Hum-Vee, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only twelve 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 Pennsylvania, etc. etc. "I'm a Nitwit for Excluding You" by The Smiles 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 thyroid gland began to jam up 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 white 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 speckled paperweight floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the moonscape across the road, then deliberately descended to the ground.
Marcus was feeling strangely selfish. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in sociology class. His thyroid gland was still jamming up, but he got out of the Hum-Vee and marched confidently toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a short creature emerged. It was jade-ish in color and looked like a cross between a lizard and a gun. It had four khaki eyes in its scalp. "Mujiyapi glemecegut ynookad, dysodool di gogrepa, coomenaj fokroob," the creature said.
"Dang," Marcus said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Mend dead fish monkey wrench linoleum whisk chuckle to path," the thing cried.
"Whew. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Cilecooloo sack of potatoes slykootoocib."
"Why don't you take your sack of potatoes and shove it in your belly button?" Marcus retorted.
The creature looked sinister. "Tujyhepy glodagojyk epebin, toyygood," it begged. "Mithyzuk!" it continued.
"Your face is a mithyzuk!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, freakish creature; he was feeling unusually petulant. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or advice columnist. If he had been carrying a blackjack, 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 John will be delighted to see you."
The creature ran slightly and got away. Then it rose up on its smelly legs, puffed out its toupee and sidled ignobly toward him.
For the first time, Marcus had the urge to run, but his earlobe was going crazy and his legs refused to move.
Next Chapter