Joel Schecter was on his way home from Salinas after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling desperate now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Aston Martin, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eleven 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 Nevada, etc. etc. "I'm a Weevil for Looking at You" by The Smirks 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 hand began to get wonky 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 tan 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 autographed can of beer floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the mesa across the road, then moderately descended to the ground.
Joel was feeling strangely suave. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in bricklaying class. His hand was still getting wonky, but he got out of the Aston Martin and skipped violently toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an athletic creature emerged. It was salmon-ish in color and looked like a cross between a bat and a Hostess Ding Dong. It had four chocolate brown eyes in its hip. "Joolugugoo slijygacib ydidoot, pysuced too niphoka, joobakun japhak," the creature said.
"Blah blah blah," Joel said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Sand cactus hair dryer moss foot dawdle to lakeside," the thing reasoned.
"Never. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Mekayooty Happy Meal drelejytooc."
"Why don't you take your Happy Meal and shove it in your pride?" Joel retorted.
The creature looked drowsy. "Cagucodo slakapakyk ootibood, tisucooc," it answered. "Dydroohon!" it continued.
"Your face is a dydroohon!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, intense creature; he was feeling unusually dapper. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or scientist. 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 Woolsey will be delighted to see you."
The creature galumphed slightly and yawned. Then it rose up on its broken legs, puffed out its femur and sidled nimbly toward him.
For the first time, Joel had the urge to run, but his antenna was whistling and his legs refused to move.
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