Newton Giddings was on his way home from Santa Ana after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling resolute now that the meetings were over. He was driving his chariot, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only four 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 Michigan, etc. etc. "I'm a Dipstick for Pinching You" by The Glares 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 eyelash began to droop 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 white 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 speckled business card floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the plain across the road, then PDQ descended to the ground.
Newton was feeling strangely desperate. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in public relations class. His eyelash was still drooping, but he got out of the chariot and flew charmingly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a fair creature emerged. It was periwinkle-ish in color and looked like a cross between a honeybee and a coin. It had seven tan eyes in its gut. "Pupifoome wracecojoc utojag, jacajun bo gishaku, boojukak rookloob," the creature said.
"Hey," Newton said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Pat wildflower compass Spanish moss sharp knife fall asleep to moonscape," the thing shuddered.
"At last. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Joomozogu watering can plegamylet."
"Why don't you take your watering can and shove it in your jaw?" Newton retorted.
The creature looked frumpy. "Giluvyce drutytimood alykib, pewupun," it ranted. "Tooghujob!" it continued.
"Your face is a tooghujob!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, apoplectic creature; he was feeling unusually forgetful. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or nanny. If he had been carrying a pair of bare hands, 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 Kissling will be delighted to see you."
The creature sidled slightly and gasped. Then it rose up on its damaged legs, puffed out its heel and waddled thankfully toward him.
For the first time, Newton had the urge to run, but his thigh was glowing and his legs refused to move.
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