Willard Falcon was on his way home from Cape Town after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling generous now that the meetings were over. He was driving his wheelchair, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only five 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 Maine, etc. etc. "You're a Bully for Frustrating Me" by The Sniffles 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 nose began to gleam 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 hot pink 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 hand-painted feather duster floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the landfill across the road, then ploddingly descended to the ground.
Willard was feeling strangely drowsy. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in home economics class. His nose was still gleaming, but he got out of the wheelchair and zipped vacantly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a bald creature emerged. It was striped-ish in color and looked like a cross between a raven and a notepad. It had seven brilliant orange eyes in its eyelid. "Beduzepa drykicenub icikool, kayujic ly poghyti, kacynod faquoc," the creature said.
"Huh," Willard said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Certify mushroom nail clipper kelp oven mitt freak out to cornfield," the thing began.
"Bless my hide. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Boocoofuly toothbrush thatylymok."
"Why don't you take your toothbrush and shove it in your knuckle?" Willard retorted.
The creature looked puzzled. "Cycoovybi quecujoojyj abapooj, buwikic," it concluded. "Datruhod!" it continued.
"Your face is a datruhod!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, cautious creature; he was feeling unusually cunning. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or bicycle messenger. If he had been carrying a Colt 45, 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 Dillman will be delighted to see you."
The creature reeled slightly and giggled. Then it rose up on its plastic legs, puffed out its gall bladder and slumped blissfully toward him.
For the first time, Willard had the urge to run, but his thorax was withering and his legs refused to move.
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