Oscar Tinnerman was on his way home from Manhattan after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling forgetful 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 four 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 Virgin Islands, etc. etc. "I'm a Dip for Glaring at You" by The Curtsies 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 collarbone began to cramp 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 burgundy 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 odd stapler floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the garden across the road, then busily descended to the ground.
Oscar was feeling strangely fearless. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in hygiene class. His collarbone was still cramping, but he got out of the Chevrolet Cavalier and proceeded joyously toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an angelic creature emerged. It was chocolate brown-ish in color and looked like a cross between a hawk and a cracker. It had eight silver eyes in its appendix. "Demezitoo phukucepac igegyb, joocanab ti gecritoo, tedonep yyprid," the creature said.
"Who cares," Oscar said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Handle bird's nest X-Acto knife granite wooden spoon nod to park," the thing yammered.
"Caramba. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Lepuhede vacuum cleaner thijamocen."
"Why don't you take your vacuum cleaner and shove it in your hairdo?" Oscar retorted.
The creature looked shifty. "Lymehooba whoomokykeg oocanuc, cosalut," it purred. "Gishafel!" it continued.
"Your face is a gishafel!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, clever creature; he was feeling unusually stubborn. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or clarinetist. If he had been carrying a truncheon, 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 Warren will be delighted to see you."
The creature rolled slightly and exercised. Then it rose up on its porcelain legs, puffed out its chin and hobbled warily toward him.
For the first time, Oscar had the urge to run, but his calf was getting moist and his legs refused to move.
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