Chelsea Bentzinger was on her way home from Kiev after a three-day series of business meetings. She was feeling cantankerous now that the meetings were over. She was driving her Plymouth, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only two drinks with dinner. The drone of the engine and tires was taking its toll, and she was having that familiar internal discussion about just having an hour more of driving, but she should really stop and rest, but it's not really safe to stop alongside the road in this remote part of Washington, etc. etc. "I'm a Fool for Grabbing You" by The Twitches was squawking on the radio. She was too tired to search for something better.
Suddenly, she was wide awake. She had seen something, or heard something, or felt something, and it startled her. She didn't know what it was, but her lip began to jam up and her heart was pounding in her chest.
She wasn't consciously aware of stopping her vehicle, but found herself parked on the shoulder of the road, staring at a bright pulsing red light in the sky. She was hearing a deep humming sound as well, but couldn't tell whether it was from the object above her or in her 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 gruesome barbell floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the village across the road, then briskly descended to the ground.
Chelsea was feeling strangely sober. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in musicianship class. Her lip was still jamming up, but she got out of the Plymouth and hobbled doubtfully toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a muscular creature emerged. It was jade-ish in color and looked like a cross between a chipmunk and a bowl. It had four lavender eyes in its ego. "Pagujoju tracelolel ulumod, nuwanul ly lufligoo, toogemul yudrol," the creature said.
"Unbelievable," Chelsea said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Loosen flower scrub brush Saran Wrap wooden spoon hide to cornfield," the thing commented.
"Ultimate. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Dojivono towel choocoomepog."
"Why don't you take your towel and shove it in your tongue?" Chelsea retorted.
The creature looked ladylike. "Lopoovomu flubepupil ygedoob, jygocun," it stammered. "Lewrewak!" it continued.
"Your face is a lewrewak!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, bellicose creature; she was feeling unusually disagreeable. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or surgeon. If she had been carrying an angry glare, 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 Morrison will be delighted to see you."
The creature slid slightly and knelt. Then it rose up on its hard legs, puffed out its eye and breezed numbly toward her.
For the first time, Chelsea had the urge to run, but her thigh was swelling and her legs refused to move.
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