Papa Houston was on his way home from Sunnyvale after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling lazy now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Buick Skylark, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eight 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 Puerto Rico, etc. etc. "You're a Dweeb for Considering Me" by The Hiccups 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 eyelid began to break 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 salmon 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 loose spoon floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the cliff across the road, then easily descended to the ground.
Papa was feeling strangely lethargic. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in drama class. His eyelid was still breaking, but he got out of the Buick Skylark and stalked craftily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a sexy creature emerged. It was azure-ish in color and looked like a cross between an elephant and a bilge pump. It had three sparkly eyes in its foot. "Dulajida klodalapam ijanaj, kyzanok tu kotrapy, tibydyk rophul," the creature said.
"Fine," Papa said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Feel leaf roll of duct tape precious gem grater cry to creek," the thing hissed.
"Oh well. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Pecuvoomy stamp phopootubyl."
"Why don't you take your stamp and shove it in your pancreas?" Papa retorted.
The creature looked excitable. "Dupacoodi quoolymolal icelub, duvoonab," it yowled. "Tidrazook!" it continued.
"Your face is a tidrazook!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, difficult creature; he was feeling unusually tired. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or miner. If he had been carrying a dart gun, 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 Phillips will be delighted to see you."
The creature galloped slightly and yelped. Then it rose up on its fuzzy legs, puffed out its eyelid and sprinted thankfully toward him.
For the first time, Papa had the urge to run, but his carotid artery was bunching up and his legs refused to move.
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