Morgan Cramer was on his way home from Trenton after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling lazy now that the meetings were over. He was driving his rocket, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only three 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 North Carolina, etc. etc. "I'm a Moonie for Mocking You" by The Titters 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 forehead began to crumble 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 hot pink 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 crusty crystal ball floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the grassland across the road, then passively descended to the ground.
Morgan was feeling strangely tense. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in penmanship class. His forehead was still crumbling, but he got out of the rocket and made a beeline despondently toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an alert creature emerged. It was salmon-ish in color and looked like a cross between a hermit crab and a box. It had seven teal eyes in its buttocks. "Litusooby clatoocekon apootab, diyimip tu cufridy, mybekem foowryl," the creature said.
"Can you dig it?," Morgan said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Grab weed torque wrench epoxy spatula sit still to arroyo," the thing nattered.
"Gawwwleeee. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Mujiyody curling iron ghedojyboom."
"Why don't you take your curling iron and shove it in your kneecap?" Morgan retorted.
The creature looked proud. "Kegezite quuputuluc yjookuj, lavinim," it professed. "Nicragen!" it continued.
"Your face is a nicragen!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, exuberant creature; he was feeling unusually cheerful. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or quilter. If he had been carrying a bullwhip, 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 Gagné will be delighted to see you."
The creature zoomed slightly and buzzed. Then it rose up on its rusty legs, puffed out its knuckle and inched thankfully toward him.
For the first time, Morgan had the urge to run, but his beard was getting moist and his legs refused to move.
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