Aaron Jetson was on his way home from Austin after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling impish now that the meetings were over. He was driving his backhoe, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only seven 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 Washington, etc. etc. "I'm a Scurvy bilge rat for Looking at You" by The Gasps 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 heart began to hurt 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 olive green 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 wet can of beans floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the crime scene across the road, then at a dawdle descended to the ground.
Aaron was feeling strangely maniacal. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in folklore class. His heart was still hurting, but he got out of the backhoe and crawled awkwardly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a slick creature emerged. It was silver-ish in color and looked like a cross between an ass and a pearl. It had five salmon eyes in its thigh. "Damocepo frydymyled yloonog, mucopug boo jiplejo, lutooled fadruj," the creature said.
"Very interesting," Aaron said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Stain pine cone buzz saw plutonium whisk hum to buffalo wallow," the thing intimated.
"For the love of Pete. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Gopuriti pot phikymidog."
"Why don't you take your pot and shove it in your neck?" Aaron retorted.
The creature looked bad. "Pacecemoo kroolopigen ujimyn, moosagon," it indicated. "Nowhoocem!" it continued.
"Your face is a nowhoocem!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, elderly creature; he was feeling unusually calm. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or physical therapist. If he had been carrying a BB 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 Covington will be delighted to see you."
The creature set out slightly and showed up. Then it rose up on its multicolored legs, puffed out its vein and bounced demurely toward him.
For the first time, Aaron had the urge to run, but his ego was stiffening and his legs refused to move.
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