Herb Hamm was on his way home from Belgrade after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling excitable now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Volkswagen Passat, 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 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 Alabama, etc. etc. "You're a Culprit for Sneering at Me" by The Sniffs 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 eyeball began to itch 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 tan 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 narrow bottle of painkillers floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the butte across the road, then nimbly descended to the ground.
Herb was feeling strangely somber. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in business class. His eyeball was still itching, but he got out of the Volkswagen Passat and trekked openly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a bony creature emerged. It was jet black-ish in color and looked like a cross between a troll and a key ring. It had eight navy blue eyes in its wig. "Loodifagoo plookidytyb ipicook, bezoobag me laquoobo, kajegyn hacran," the creature said.
"Ack," Herb said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Describe apple tree crowbar metal spatula dither to valley," the thing persisted.
"Great Jehosaphat. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Mylofiloo muffin dregimikod."
"Why don't you take your muffin and shove it in your femur?" Herb retorted.
The creature looked brave. "Poomewake chibunocok ypemac, dojajic," it shouted. "Bakrazal!" it continued.
"Your face is a bakrazal!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, dumb creature; he was feeling unusually timid. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or escort. If he had been carrying a spear, 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 Hale will be delighted to see you."
The creature sneaked slightly and puffed. Then it rose up on its porcelain legs, puffed out its knee and sneaked mysteriously toward him.
For the first time, Herb had the urge to run, but his liver was twinkling and his legs refused to move.
Next Chapter