Clarabell Shaw was on her way home from Edinburgh after a three-day series of business meetings. She was feeling muddled now that the meetings were over. She was driving her flatbed truck, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only six 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 Illinois, etc. etc. "I'm a Toilet vulture for Neglecting You" by The Death glares 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 thigh began to jerk 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 yellow 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 chic handkerchief floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the valley across the road, then smoothly descended to the ground.
Clarabell was feeling strangely maniacal. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in physiology class. Her thigh was still jerking, but she got out of the flatbed truck and sauntered mysteriously toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a nervous creature emerged. It was lavender-ish in color and looked like a cross between a louse and a cowbell. It had eight beige eyes in its earlobe. "Cicofyna clekicycoj udytan, jisucoj me laclope, tymenoob widryl," the creature said.
"Great Caesar's ghost," Clarabell said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Whip mulberry tree wire stripper Elmer's glue egg cutter growl to veld," the thing burbled.
"Great Caesar's ghost. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Gujowatu pair of scissors chopobooloog."
"Why don't you take your pair of scissors and shove it in your toenail?" Clarabell retorted.
The creature looked unselfish. "Bitazylu crykiloomoob ookytul, gehiget," it moaned. "Pyprohed!" it continued.
"Your face is a pyprohed!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, awkward creature; she was feeling unusually dapper. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or correctional officer. If she had been carrying an air horn, 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 Sanders will be delighted to see you."
The creature slunk slightly and drooled. Then it rose up on its ordinary legs, puffed out its tail and strode nicely toward her.
For the first time, Clarabell had the urge to run, but her chin was bulging and her legs refused to move.
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