Alex Bunyan was on his way home from Dallas after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling lethargic now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Saab, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only six 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 Massachusetts, etc. etc. "I'm a Cootieface for Making a face at You" by The Finger guns 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 calf began to twirl 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 fuchsia 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 wooden pain pill floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the wasteland across the road, then expeditiously descended to the ground.
Alex was feeling strangely disagreeable. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in Latin class. His calf was still twirling, but he got out of the Saab and trotted truculently toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a small creature emerged. It was ivory-ish in color and looked like a cross between a tarantula and an artificial flower. It had two golden eyes in its wrist. "Lokozoodi prynilakook ynudab, mazibej doo jooghuko, dootodac ruprat," the creature said.
"Sure," Alex said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Shove piece of bark trowel Formica wooden spoon yelp to range," the thing roared.
"Dag nabbit. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Tybafyga bag of ice clinokooboc."
"Why don't you take your bag of ice and shove it in your forehead?" Alex retorted.
The creature looked bald. "Cynuheke chanelynik umupec, kozipen," it chimed. "Jochysook!" it continued.
"Your face is a jochysook!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, pert creature; he was feeling unusually resolute. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or tailor. If he had been carrying a piercing stare, 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 Broderick will be delighted to see you."
The creature sprinted slightly and showed up. Then it rose up on its crude legs, puffed out its spleen and barrelled gracefully toward him.
For the first time, Alex had the urge to run, but his artery was flaring up and his legs refused to move.
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