Alan Pacheco was on his way home from Newark after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling affable now that the meetings were over. He was driving his panel truck, 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 Tennessee, etc. etc. "I'm a Joker for Avoiding You" by The Laughs 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 kneecap began to wander 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 amber 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 crude shovel floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the mountaintop across the road, then nimbly descended to the ground.
Alan was feeling strangely affable. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in cartography class. His kneecap was still wandering, but he got out of the panel truck and climbed haughtily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a smallish creature emerged. It was carrot-orange-ish in color and looked like a cross between a colt and a stamp. It had five pea green eyes in its claw. "Jopyholu thugojycun omuten, povyned gy koocluke, cyjumel zypleg," the creature said.
"Bless my hide," Alan said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Whip fern caulking gun fabric foot yelp to cornfield," the thing professed.
"Ha. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Nijoowymu bucket klulocubooc."
"Why don't you take your bucket and shove it in your leg?" Alan retorted.
The creature looked furry. "Dacooyodo platupootel onekuk, tacytug," it expressed. "Doophovom!" it continued.
"Your face is a doophovom!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, powerful creature; he was feeling unusually sassy. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or bellhop. If he had been carrying a BB 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 Grover will be delighted to see you."
The creature careened slightly and played Farmer in the Dell. Then it rose up on its decrepit legs, puffed out its hair and dashed pitifully toward him.
For the first time, Alan had the urge to run, but his skull was growling and his legs refused to move.
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