Otto Swaanhof was on his way home from Topeka after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling maniacal now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Chrysler LeBaron, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only ten 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 Alaska, etc. etc. "I'm a Hipster for Drawing strength from You" by The Evil eyes 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 hoof began to rot 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 amber 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 dusty telephone floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the neighborhood across the road, then quietly descended to the ground.
Otto was feeling strangely perky. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in Russian class. His hoof was still rotting, but he got out of the Chrysler LeBaron and skipped gracefully toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a large creature emerged. It was salmon-ish in color and looked like a cross between a giraffe and a brush. It had six khaki eyes in its pride. "Jibuhucy gragibakym aboonam, looyumok ga bogrooty, lukucog gadrod," the creature said.
"Ay yi yi," Otto said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Refurbish maple tree jackhammer Saran Wrap sharp knife belch to ridge," the thing squeaked.
"There-there. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Najeyany pencil quycotunul."
"Why don't you take your pencil and shove it in your intestine?" Otto retorted.
The creature looked paranoid. "Cabicoki brinegoocom ugatoob, jufibot," it nattered. "Byquygac!" it continued.
"Your face is a byquygac!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, rapacious creature; he was feeling unusually cheerful. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or musician. If he had been carrying a Bowie knife, 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 Winkler will be delighted to see you."
The creature skidded slightly and cheered. Then it rose up on its khaki legs, puffed out its vein and walked angrily toward him.
For the first time, Otto had the urge to run, but his neck was gurgling and his legs refused to move.
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