Kris Page was on his way home from Clarksville after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling calm now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Ferrari, 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 Kansas, etc. etc. "I'm an Old buzzard for Challenging You" by The Crows 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 spinal cord began to close down 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 violet 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 golden candy bar floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the stream across the road, then apathetically descended to the ground.
Kris was feeling strangely tired. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in German class. His spinal cord was still closing down, but he got out of the Ferrari and crawled grimly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a suave creature emerged. It was scarlet-ish in color and looked like a cross between a swan and a camera. It had three violet eyes in its tail. "Tunarejoo thedynymoon udajip, lyyocym po gesleka, pecootoot saslyb," the creature said.
"Geez Louise," Kris said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Spin tree stump shovel axle grease meat thermometer squeak to mesa," the thing lectured.
"@#%#^@%$@!. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Poomooryky doily brybunokym."
"Why don't you take your doily and shove it in your hairdo?" Kris retorted.
The creature looked daring. "Nukycynu slumoojydib yjunyk, nysibyk," it laughed. "Pywhyjem!" it continued.
"Your face is a pywhyjem!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, sloppy creature; he was feeling unusually carefree. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or newscaster. If he had been carrying a squirt 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 Kling will be delighted to see you."
The creature pranced slightly and flinched. Then it rose up on its crisp legs, puffed out its chin and slithered suavely toward him.
For the first time, Kris had the urge to run, but his bicep was cracking and his legs refused to move.
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