Lester Brown was on his way home from Madison after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling excitable now that the meetings were over. He was driving his garbage truck, 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 Georgia, etc. etc. "You're a Bandicoot for Aggravating Me" by The Death 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 brain began to turn to mush 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 purple 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 worn cork floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the cornfield across the road, then nimbly descended to the ground.
Lester was feeling strangely queer. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in theology class. His brain was still turning to mush, but he got out of the garbage truck and inched happily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a haggard creature emerged. It was ivory-ish in color and looked like a cross between a parakeet and an acorn. It had eight carrot-orange eyes in its tummy. "Cytocooto flajanudul atomud, moogycet dy myshooje, cipunad fuwhak," the creature said.
"If only," Lester said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Monitor apple tree garden hoe rubber slotted spoon huff to prairie," the thing continued.
"Oh my word. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Kinuwymu beach ball crekakitop."
"Why don't you take your beach ball and shove it in your midriff?" Lester retorted.
The creature looked bald. "Jidygiku quulajoocep ekimec, duyadim," it debated. "Gethyson!" it continued.
"Your face is a gethyson!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, boring creature; he was feeling unusually fearful. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or puppeteer. If he had been carrying a bottle of Tabasco Sauce, 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 Romero will be delighted to see you."
The creature proceeded slightly and murmured. Then it rose up on its stuffed legs, puffed out its bicep and pranced energetically toward him.
For the first time, Lester had the urge to run, but his waist was quivering and his legs refused to move.
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