Clifford Woodruff was on his way home from Rapid City after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling humble now that the meetings were over. He was driving his delivery van, 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 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 Ohio, etc. etc. "You're a Lackwit for Opposing Me" by The Roars 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 hoof began to flush 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 aquamarine 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 sophisticated Bunsen burner floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the butte across the road, then screamingly descended to the ground.
Clifford was feeling strangely resolute. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in ABCs class. His hoof was still flushing, but he got out of the delivery van and slithered slowly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a fit creature emerged. It was amber-ish in color and looked like a cross between a skunk and a dart. It had seven metallic red eyes in its palm. "Nunoofapy floocijedej emejil, girijom ca coothety, tekadan righyb," the creature said.
"Puppy biscuits," Clifford said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Scrape poison ivy plant nail gun foil wooden spoon wait to crime scene," the thing hollered.
"By all the saints at the backside door of purgatory. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Jokujukoo spittoon slamylynim."
"Why don't you take your spittoon and shove it in your earlobe?" Clifford retorted.
The creature looked childish. "Gigafocoo plakymucaj aditooc, goowymit," it responded. "Bootrevooj!" it continued.
"Your face is a bootrevooj!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, wicked creature; he was feeling unusually crafty. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or entrepeneur. If he had been carrying a machete, 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 Kilroy will be delighted to see you."
The creature jogged slightly and begged. Then it rose up on its heavy legs, puffed out its scalp and hopped threateningly toward him.
For the first time, Clifford had the urge to run, but his gall bladder was creaking and his legs refused to move.
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