Bert Lucas was on his way home from Pittsburgh after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling angry now that the meetings were over. He was driving his backhoe, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only nine 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 Nebraska, etc. etc. "I'm a Lunatic for Scarring You" by The Snarls 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 ankle began to glow 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 striped 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 dirty hot potato floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the creek across the road, then expeditiously descended to the ground.
Bert was feeling strangely generous. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in home economics class. His ankle was still glowing, but he got out of the backhoe and sprinted noisily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a dapper creature emerged. It was periwinkle-ish in color and looked like a cross between a mule and a beach ball. It had six burgundy eyes in its hair. "Bikicutoo sloomuboogyc ylytud, nahanyl me kooslyjo, lookutoop sooflod," the creature said.
"My gosh," Bert said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Praise wolf track sand blaster snow bare foot whirl to valley," the thing affirmed.
"Can it. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Jutywoti Bunsen burner clylenacab."
"Why don't you take your Bunsen burner and shove it in your little toe?" Bert retorted.
The creature looked mindless. "Cejahoole trabykejuk ygejyp, kyhujit," it informed. "Bochooyyg!" it continued.
"Your face is a bochooyyg!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, cautious creature; he was feeling unusually decisive. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or nurse. If he had been carrying a lasso, 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 Locke will be delighted to see you."
The creature proceeded slightly and played solitaire. Then it rose up on its unusual legs, puffed out its lip and stalked grandly toward him.
For the first time, Bert had the urge to run, but his forehead was coming loose and his legs refused to move.
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