Pops Countryman was on his way home from Stockton after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling cantankerous now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Gremlin, 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 Oregon, etc. etc. "I'm a Hoodlum for Whispering to You" 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 little finger began to peel 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 polka dotted 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 bulky broom floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the marsh across the road, then rapidly descended to the ground.
Pops was feeling strangely affable. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in ABCs class. His little finger was still peeling, but he got out of the Gremlin and leapt coldly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a grubby creature emerged. It was aqua-ish in color and looked like a cross between a skunk and a book. It had seven golden eyes in its neck. "Pycocoboo brepoodumeg alucoc, boocyben ko lupliby, logekoot waclol," the creature said.
"Swell," Pops said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Hang sea shell screwdriver cold rolled steel fork barf to cliff," the thing sneered.
"Lordy. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Jalizige pistol dricecakum."
"Why don't you take your pistol and shove it in your lung?" Pops retorted.
The creature looked princely. "Tebavape precookoomup ucooloob, mowatid," it rumored. "Japhoowoon!" it continued.
"Your face is a japhoowoon!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, undignified creature; he was feeling unusually furious. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or attorney. If he had been carrying a lightsaber, 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 Sheridan will be delighted to see you."
The creature danced slightly and yelled. Then it rose up on its sleek legs, puffed out its knuckle and traipsed breathlessly toward him.
For the first time, Pops had the urge to run, but his shoulder was falling off and his legs refused to move.
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