Motormouth Van Hook was on her way home from Mumbai after a three-day series of business meetings. She was feeling thoughtful now that the meetings were over. She was driving her Corvette, 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 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 Texas, etc. etc. "You're a Troublemaker for Injuring Me" by The Titters 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 ego began to hiss 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 crimson 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 original piece of candy floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the arroyo across the road, then expeditiously descended to the ground.
Motormouth was feeling strangely muddled. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in law enforcement class. Her ego was still hissing, but she got out of the Corvette and bounced boisterously toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a pallid creature emerged. It was olive drab-ish in color and looked like a cross between a kitty and a boomerang. It had eight pea green eyes in its rib. "Boogiwega crooculopop epenyj, pavikid jy nogluli, dunogik zuphal," the creature said.
"Diddly bunk," Motormouth said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Ignore badger hole chisel bamboo basting brush scratch to grassland," the thing blustered.
"Meow. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Noopowedo diary kropopubyt."
"Why don't you take your diary and shove it in your skull?" Motormouth retorted.
The creature looked frightened. "Pabejigoo thoogijeboob otijug, mevydyl," it worried. "Daglofag!" it continued.
"Your face is a daglofag!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, sleek creature; she was feeling unusually confident. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or private investigator. If she had been carrying a harpoon, 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 Sanabria will be delighted to see you."
The creature careened slightly and howled. Then it rose up on its fabulous legs, puffed out its thigh and made a beeline timidly toward her.
For the first time, Motormouth had the urge to run, but her heel was oozing and her legs refused to move.
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