Gilmo Douglas was on his way home from Minneapolis after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling modest now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Mazda RX-7, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only five 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 Oklahoma, etc. etc. "You're a Tattletale for Calling the cops on Me" by The Finger guns 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 thigh began to twinkle 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 lavender 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 overgrown bugle floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the gully across the road, then leadenly descended to the ground.
Gilmo was feeling strangely decisive. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in law enforcement class. His thigh was still twinkling, but he got out of the Mazda RX-7 and inched roughly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a muscular creature emerged. It was olive drab-ish in color and looked like a cross between a squirrel and a tennis racket. It had three emerald green eyes in its neck. "Dagosele kletopoocom icegul, togakec ku bodrygu, cecoomut vichik," the creature said.
"Grody to the max," Gilmo said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Watch egg shell eyelash curler matchstick pastry blender throw up to badlands area," the thing piped up.
"Absolutely. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Gebayuko ironing board chagulydep."
"Why don't you take your ironing board and shove it in your gut?" Gilmo retorted.
The creature looked heavyset. "Kameyice chudoominyc amekun, duyijut," it bragged. "Nucroyib!" it continued.
"Your face is a nucroyib!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, corpulent creature; he was feeling unusually stubborn. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or drummer. If he had been carrying a rubber band, 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 Childress will be delighted to see you."
The creature lumbered slightly and yelped. Then it rose up on its valuable legs, puffed out its hangnail and bounced violently toward him.
For the first time, Gilmo had the urge to run, but his jaw was spinning and his legs refused to move.
Next Chapter