Irving Whitney was on his way home from Edinburgh after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling sober now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Trans Am, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only six 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 Indiana, etc. etc. "You're a Blatherskite for Grabbing Me" by The Cringes 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 earlobe began to burble 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 fuchsia 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 art deco bone floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the tundra across the road, then PDQ descended to the ground.
Irving was feeling strangely sober. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in traditional medicine class. His earlobe was still burbling, but he got out of the Trans Am and swung threateningly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an undersized creature emerged. It was crimson-ish in color and looked like a cross between a Doberman and an accordion. It had six chartreuse eyes in its thorax. "Moocehanoo slocoogoolib iboogan, lyyudan bi taplulu, tepymam cacrin," the creature said.
"Goodness gracious," Irving said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Enclose leaf plunger sweat and toil napkin ruminate to seashore," the thing protested.
"Aaaw. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Jomoofaja peach frookebacuc."
"Why don't you take your peach and shove it in your palm?" Irving retorted.
The creature looked conscientious. "Mepihonoo slugopumap amoodal, koojoocoob," it vouched. "Lothysuc!" it continued.
"Your face is a lothysuc!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, decent creature; he was feeling unusually fearful. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or bricklayer. If he had been carrying a blow pipe, 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 Wooten will be delighted to see you."
The creature sprinted slightly and sweated. Then it rose up on its delicate legs, puffed out its foot and strode perkily toward him.
For the first time, Irving had the urge to run, but his little finger was feeling numb and his legs refused to move.
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