Morrie Griebel was on his way home from Dublin after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling perky now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Hyundai Elantra, 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 Iowa, etc. etc. "You're a Weasel for Seeing Me" by The Roars 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 hairdo began to crackle 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 scarlet 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 smumpy paper clip floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the moonscape across the road, then like all get-out descended to the ground.
Morrie was feeling strangely pensive. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in painting class. His hairdo was still crackling, but he got out of the Hyundai Elantra and bolted properly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a neat creature emerged. It was mauve-ish in color and looked like a cross between a flamingo and a broom. It had three teal eyes in its beard. "Mobuvoobe whoodonokel etoojot, poogalok ci koothige, gytegit wyfluc," the creature said.
"Now what?," Morrie said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Paint raspberry bush garden hoe satin corkscrew ruminate to range," the thing guessed.
"I think not. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Cibijagy campaign sign crookynedun."
"Why don't you take your campaign sign and shove it in your chest?" Morrie retorted.
The creature looked stubborn. "Doogaracu kroonunoobab ikajyp, pafibuc," it yelped. "Jidrezek!" it continued.
"Your face is a jidrezek!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, elderly creature; he was feeling unusually fearless. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or window washer. If he had been carrying a lasso, 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 Khatchaturian will be delighted to see you."
The creature pranced slightly and slept. Then it rose up on its charming legs, puffed out its knuckle and rushed reluctantly toward him.
For the first time, Morrie had the urge to run, but his toenail was going to pieces and his legs refused to move.
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