Royce Harris was on his way home from Medellin after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling thoughtful now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Chevy Impala, 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 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 Puerto Rico, etc. etc. "I'm a Pervert for Texting You" by The Power fists 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 ring 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 hot pink 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 dry toy floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the garden across the road, then diligently descended to the ground.
Royce was feeling strangely cantankerous. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in social studies class. His hand was still ringing, but he got out of the Chevy Impala and blundered irritably toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an ugly creature emerged. It was forest green-ish in color and looked like a cross between a manatee and a billiard ball. It had two mauve eyes in its buttocks. "Cotiruta klutoliboop edoopoot, kugutoop ji bychice, lykoobyb cedren," the creature said.
"Bless you," Royce said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Stab piece of driftwood caulking gun fiber dull knife fantasize to lagoon," the thing roared.
"Yes. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Toobizyji piece of chalk dribytoogoog."
"Why don't you take your piece of chalk and shove it in your thumb?" Royce retorted.
The creature looked daring. "Nocigupa trucoomacop itukib, gijadin," it alleged. "Bykrozyl!" it continued.
"Your face is a bykrozyl!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, grizzled creature; he was feeling unusually self-assured. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or electrician. If he had been carrying a squirt gun, 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 Wallace will be delighted to see you."
The creature dashed slightly and dealt cards. Then it rose up on its ruined legs, puffed out its thumb and blundered breathlessly toward him.
For the first time, Royce had the urge to run, but his arm was turning blue and his legs refused to move.
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