Jerry Chopra was on his way home from Mogadishu after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling irate now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Hummer, 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 Arkansas, etc. etc. "You're a Sap for Manipulating Me" by The Crows 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 hiss 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 rose 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 stuffed bag of popcorn floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the veld across the road, then like mad descended to the ground.
Jerry was feeling strangely petulant. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in electronics class. His forehead was still hissing, but he got out of the Hummer and sailed solemnly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a homely creature emerged. It was forest green-ish in color and looked like a cross between a turtle and a pair of headphones. It had two sea green eyes in its eyelid. "Dumufegi slooconabep otoonen, tizootom mo lodrace, kigimul ruthan," the creature said.
"Egad," Jerry said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Fry cactus hacksaw yarn slotted spoon sleep to prairie," the thing orated.
"Glaack. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Numeyoodu compass troocupookym."
"Why don't you take your compass and shove it in your pinky?" Jerry retorted.
The creature looked excitable. "Moogooguta krytyjyjak oojycooj, tufoobik," it expressed. "Tocrusit!" it continued.
"Your face is a tocrusit!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, gregarious creature; he was feeling unusually hysterical. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or car salesman. If he had been carrying a Molotov cocktail, 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 Montgomery will be delighted to see you."
The creature sprinted slightly and nodded. Then it rose up on its ornate legs, puffed out its stomach and slunk hopelessly toward him.
For the first time, Jerry had the urge to run, but his liver was curving and his legs refused to move.
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