Manfred Marchetti was on his way home from Kabul after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling disagreeable now that the meetings were over. He was driving his minivan, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only twelve 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 California, etc. etc. "You're an Oddball for Heckling Me" by The Sneezes 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 chin began to radiate 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 orange 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 well worn stick floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the hayfield across the road, then busily descended to the ground.
Manfred was feeling strangely cunning. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in civics class. His chin was still radiating, but he got out of the minivan and bolted sleepily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a gangling creature emerged. It was striped-ish in color and looked like a cross between an antelope and a feather duster. It had six golden eyes in its gut. "Mucarooki drododypal aleban, lujunik ma cookruja, juginyd cychyj," the creature said.
"Dang," Manfred said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Scrub apple tree tape measure chalk melon baller kneel to treetop," the thing spouted.
"Uh. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Kapyrugoo pair of headphones grujubunud."
"Why don't you take your pair of headphones and shove it in your wig?" Manfred retorted.
The creature looked intense. "Jygoozemoo whypajoolot acupap, lowapul," it chuckled. "Buclooryc!" it continued.
"Your face is a buclooryc!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, childish creature; he was feeling unusually sarcastic. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or newscaster. If he had been carrying a lance, 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 Schreiber will be delighted to see you."
The creature waded slightly and slobbered. Then it rose up on its hideous legs, puffed out its tummy and hopped nonchalantly toward him.
For the first time, Manfred had the urge to run, but his kidney was getting hairy and his legs refused to move.
Next Chapter