Bones Salinger was on his way home from Detroit after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling lethargic now that the meetings were over. He was driving his delivery truck, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only nine 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 Wisconsin, etc. etc. "I'm a Stinker for Tricking You" by The Growls 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 paw began to fall off 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 khaki 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 bell floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the plain across the road, then deliberately descended to the ground.
Bones was feeling strangely relaxed. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in storytelling class. His paw was still falling off, but he got out of the delivery truck and tramped boisterously toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a ruddy creature emerged. It was scarlet-ish in color and looked like a cross between a rabbit and a nail. It had four brown eyes in its thigh. "Jujoyooge grycebotod epojib, jegootoop ku pichade, tunobook hoocret," the creature said.
"You don't say," Bones said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Gold plate wolf track chisel duct tape basting brush burp to dumpster," the thing voiced.
"Ha-ha. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Makohema duffel bag froodilulin."
"Why don't you take your duffel bag and shove it in your face?" Bones retorted.
The creature looked tactful. "Nekureni grypinulyd obytan, teromel," it brought up. "Bicroovat!" it continued.
"Your face is a bicroovat!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, cantankerous creature; he was feeling unusually peckish. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or sales clerk. If he had been carrying a stink bomb, 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 Marsden will be delighted to see you."
The creature galloped slightly and looked puzzled. Then it rose up on its spongy legs, puffed out its ego and scurried impatiently toward him.
For the first time, Bones had the urge to run, but his skin was growing and his legs refused to move.
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