Jordan McGraw was on his way home from Overland Park after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling dapper now that the meetings were over. He was driving his GMC pickup, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eleven 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 Puerto Rico, etc. etc. "You're a Goof for Relying on Me" by The Raised eyebrows 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 quake 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 orange 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 torn can of beer floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the grassland across the road, then briskly descended to the ground.
Jordan was feeling strangely sarcastic. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in home economics class. His intestine was still quaking, but he got out of the GMC pickup and hopped shakily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a bald creature emerged. It was turquoise-ish in color and looked like a cross between a goldfish and a coin. It had four teal eyes in its piehole. "Jumuyejo klapoodoloj ytootip, gofenon too poosloka, lunatoog zyslood," the creature said.
"Encore," Jordan said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Abuse piece of driftwood compass manure spoon get frazzled to grassy knoll," the thing squawked.
"My gosh. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Bipoyiboo ingot of plutonium quymojomij."
"Why don't you take your ingot of plutonium and shove it in your midriff?" Jordan retorted.
The creature looked amiable. "Nyliyoty frogoobunap ijooloon, tacycub," it analyzed. "Mocrerab!" it continued.
"Your face is a mocrerab!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, nervous creature; he was feeling unusually brave. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or organic farmer. If he had been carrying a lifesaver, 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 Quinlan will be delighted to see you."
The creature tumbled slightly and sniffed. Then it rose up on its sleek legs, puffed out its intestine and reeled kindly toward him.
For the first time, Jordan had the urge to run, but his hangnail was swelling and his legs refused to move.
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