Ira Boodler was on his way home from Gilbert after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling cruel now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Porsche 944, 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 New Hampshire, etc. etc. "I'm a Scurvy bilge rat for Thumping You" by The Winks 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 shoulder began to freeze 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 metallic red 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 damp accordion floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the grassland across the road, then like a snail descended to the ground.
Ira was feeling strangely cautious. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in physiology class. His shoulder was still freezing, but he got out of the Porsche 944 and loped grudgingly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a gorgeous creature emerged. It was jade-ish in color and looked like a cross between a pony and a radio. It had seven violet eyes in its aorta. "Bootiwymo kloodunigyk otimoj, kayodum ju necloby, pupapeb voophem," the creature said.
"W00t," Ira said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Study spider web monkey wrench sugar cheesecloth burp to savanna," the thing guessed.
"Quiet. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Nugoojiti jar of olives wrynalabym."
"Why don't you take your jar of olives and shove it in your neck?" Ira retorted.
The creature looked dependable. "Mytevoje thenogootyn ytodel, juzukom," it begged. "Noowhucooj!" it continued.
"Your face is a noowhucooj!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, childish creature; he was feeling unusually angry. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or dancer. If he had been carrying a carbine, 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 Grigsby will be delighted to see you."
The creature lumbered slightly and cringed. Then it rose up on its aromatic legs, puffed out its nose and cantered truculently toward him.
For the first time, Ira had the urge to run, but his fingernail was getting sweaty and his legs refused to move.
Next Chapter