Martina Brindel was on her way home from Cincinnati after a two-day series of business meetings. She was feeling fiendish now that the meetings were over. She was driving her pickup, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eight 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 Delaware, etc. etc. "You're an Eager beaver for Spitting at Me" by The Cringes 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 front tooth began to rot 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 maroon 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 amazing bag of groceries floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the glen across the road, then at a dawdle descended to the ground.
Martina was feeling strangely modest. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in calculus class. Her front tooth was still rotting, but she got out of the pickup and waddled irritably toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an undersized creature emerged. It was golden-ish in color and looked like a cross between a yeti and a business card. It had three lime-green eyes in its lip. "Pymuwoogoo quodygojik ynubik, lofeled dy kyproda, lupamep wykrik," the creature said.
"W00t," Martina said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Weigh bear track router cast iron paring knife sit still to swamp," the thing intoned.
"Holy smokes. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Moogavajy mop frymemygom."
"Why don't you take your mop and shove it in your heel?" Martina retorted.
The creature looked tactful. "Mugagydi philoloopek agutum, darucac," it quoted. "Gowhyrooj!" it continued.
"Your face is a gowhyrooj!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, obnoxious creature; she was feeling unusually puzzled. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or prosecutor. If she had been carrying a musket, 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 Kettle will be delighted to see you."
The creature skidded slightly and squealed. Then it rose up on its smooth legs, puffed out its earlobe and flew sheepishly toward her.
For the first time, Martina had the urge to run, but her rib was dribbling and her legs refused to move.
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