Greg Drake was on his way home from Prague after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling generous now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Chevrolet Cavalier, 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 Hawaii, etc. etc. "You're a restaurant owner for Shaving Me" by The Laughs 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 midriff began to get waxy 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 emerald green 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 miniature stamp floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the grassland across the road, then gradually descended to the ground.
Greg was feeling strangely decisive. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in computer science class. His midriff was still getting waxy, but he got out of the Chevrolet Cavalier and blundered madly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a gaunt creature emerged. It was yellow-ish in color and looked like a cross between a crow and a brochure. It had seven beige eyes in its abdomen. "Topocobu pricipipooj umutyp, jewoopag ta dyquede, tydanuj cucheb," the creature said.
"Gee," Greg said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Sand twig whisk broom foam electric mixer sweat to crime scene," the thing decided.
"Holy Mother of Petunias. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Joojoohooke egg shell grakoomogym."
"Why don't you take your egg shell and shove it in your artery?" Greg retorted.
The creature looked obese. "Pookugady klapopocit ootajop, tosoomok," it fretted. "Mushyyyn!" it continued.
"Your face is a mushyyyn!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, self-assured creature; he was feeling unusually fearless. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or auctioneer. If he had been carrying a crossbow, 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 Palin will be delighted to see you."
The creature strode slightly and blanked out. Then it rose up on its big legs, puffed out its heart and whirled daintily toward him.
For the first time, Greg had the urge to run, but his front tooth was falling off and his legs refused to move.
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