Newton Truman was on his way home from Nashville after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling queer now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Ford Explorer, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only four 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 an Oaf for Embarrassing Me" by The Squints 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 midriff began to swing 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 lavender 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 original pickle floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the island across the road, then hurriedly descended to the ground.
Newton was feeling strangely modest. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in political science class. His midriff was still swinging, but he got out of the Ford Explorer and inched testily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a chubby creature emerged. It was amber-ish in color and looked like a cross between a prairie dog and a rubber stamp. It had three green eyes in its stomach. "Kalicagi ghytakoopom igoojip, cahemyj ne kooploomoo, pylypyj zyglet," the creature said.
"Thanks for nothing," Newton said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Whack dead fish paintbrush straw food processor glare to trail," the thing spat.
"Rats. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Bobasula elephant tusk flagociceg."
"Why don't you take your elephant tusk and shove it in your belly button?" Newton retorted.
The creature looked presumptuous. "Joomoowocy drabicagot oocidop, dacoolep," it scoffed. "Gaglared!" it continued.
"Your face is a gaglared!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, frightened creature; he was feeling unusually cautious. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or attorney. If he had been carrying a peacemaker, 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 Slater will be delighted to see you."
The creature scurried slightly and rocked. Then it rose up on its flaky legs, puffed out its spleen and marched properly toward him.
For the first time, Newton had the urge to run, but his ego was loosening up and his legs refused to move.
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