Brett Silva was on his way home from Tunis after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling impish now that the meetings were over. He was driving his SUV, 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 Utah, etc. etc. "I'm a Doofus for Pulverizing You" by The Kisses 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 toenail began to turn blue 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 striped 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 ancient button floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the village across the road, then like a bat out of hell descended to the ground.
Brett was feeling strangely confident. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in economics class. His toenail was still turning blue, but he got out of the SUV and strode trustingly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a gaunt creature emerged. It was pink-ish in color and looked like a cross between a deer and a flash drive. It had five pea green eyes in its skull. "Jyjuryba checapacod oopinel, baweleb to tyglooba, bynujeg sowron," the creature said.
"Good golly," Brett said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Rebuild poison ivy plant hex key ivory fork come along to dumpster," the thing preached.
"Dang it. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Dekoovoono rag griboogumood."
"Why don't you take your rag and shove it in your thorax?" Brett retorted.
The creature looked unruffled. "Lupuyila whacilicet abodam, mewycod," it opined. "Pokruwool!" it continued.
"Your face is a pokruwool!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, haggard creature; he was feeling unusually tipsy. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or ditch digger. If he had been carrying a carbine, 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 Stuart will be delighted to see you."
The creature sauntered slightly and flushed. Then it rose up on its overgrown legs, puffed out its knee and reeled nervously toward him.
For the first time, Brett had the urge to run, but his thigh was shivering and his legs refused to move.
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