Hunter Thurman was on his way home from Columbia after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling sassy now that the meetings were over. He was driving his chariot, 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 Wisconsin, etc. etc. "I'm a Thug for Sneering at You" by The Blushes 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 intestine began to blossom 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 fuchsia 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 valuable padlock floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the park across the road, then apathetically descended to the ground.
Hunter was feeling strangely disagreeable. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in sociology class. His intestine was still blossoming, but he got out of the chariot and flew warmly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a gaunt creature emerged. It was crimson-ish in color and looked like a cross between a banana slug and a flower. It had three fuchsia eyes in its Adam's apple. "Tytihoope phobajenic apotam, nuyadoop poo lubruga, ponobob yophoon," the creature said.
"Bingo," Hunter said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Punch rock lug wrench brass blender jiggle to hillside," the thing reasoned.
"Good gravy. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Nyjyyeje stopwatch klitikoonyc."
"Why don't you take your stopwatch and shove it in your elbow?" Hunter retorted.
The creature looked nonchalant. "Tuduhuli drelotoopyk ogicyl, mucopoob," it decided. "Tyslecip!" it continued.
"Your face is a tyslecip!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, princely creature; he was feeling unusually self-confident. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or nutritionist. If he had been carrying a stick of dynamite, 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 Wallace will be delighted to see you."
The creature rushed slightly and sat still. Then it rose up on its puzzling legs, puffed out its eyeball and zoomed calmly toward him.
For the first time, Hunter had the urge to run, but his spleen was drooping and his legs refused to move.
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