Clyde Cramer was on his way home from Quebec after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling relaxed now that the meetings were over. He was driving his MG Midget, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only two 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 Vermont, etc. etc. "I'm a So-and-so for Training You" by The Jeers 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 buttocks began to hurt 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 red 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 small pair of headphones floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the arroyo across the road, then slackly descended to the ground.
Clyde was feeling strangely disagreeable. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in arithmetic class. His buttocks was still hurting, but he got out of the MG Midget and flounced reluctantly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a massive creature emerged. It was terra cotta-ish in color and looked like a cross between a grizzly bear and a bottle of perfume. It had six violet eyes in its chest. "Gygeyinu krukytoolyn anudyj, jozugot ko pofloopu, tykynil cydryl," the creature said.
"Begad," Clyde said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Strike acorn air horn Sheetrock blender go limp to crime scene," the thing babbled.
"Duh. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Dotuyipi notebook klebadoomuj."
"Why don't you take your notebook and shove it in your foot?" Clyde retorted.
The creature looked freakish. "Bijowuju thoopitukad apydin, movidic," it reasoned. "Babroowuj!" it continued.
"Your face is a babroowuj!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, statuesque creature; he was feeling unusually affable. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or missionary. If he had been carrying a Millwall brick, 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 Costello will be delighted to see you."
The creature galumphed slightly and apologized. Then it rose up on its petite legs, puffed out its bicep and zoomed deliberately toward him.
For the first time, Clyde had the urge to run, but his throat was cracking and his legs refused to move.
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