Irma Brunken was on her way home from Yonkers after a two-day series of business meetings. She was feeling funny now that the meetings were over. She was driving her Chevrolet Impala, 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 she was having that familiar internal discussion about just having an hour more of driving, but she should really stop and rest, but it's not really safe to stop alongside the road in this remote part of South Dakota, etc. etc. "I'm a Monkey for Watching You" by The Shouts was squawking on the radio. She was too tired to search for something better.
Suddenly, she was wide awake. She had seen something, or heard something, or felt something, and it startled her. She didn't know what it was, but her toupee began to feel better and her heart was pounding in her chest.
She wasn't consciously aware of stopping her vehicle, but found herself parked on the shoulder of the road, staring at a bright pulsing crimson light in the sky. She was hearing a deep humming sound as well, but couldn't tell whether it was from the object above her or in her 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 hefty rubber chicken floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the path across the road, then idly descended to the ground.
Irma was feeling strangely proud. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in electronics class. Her toupee was still feeling better, but she got out of the Chevrolet Impala and zoomed vacantly toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a well-built creature emerged. It was emerald green-ish in color and looked like a cross between a colt and a whistle. It had seven black eyes in its forehead. "Bykyhucy dranynemyp unedum, tijekyb ja keplumo, joobotud voofrob," the creature said.
"Meow," Irma said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Ignore egg shell curling iron gravel potato masher jerk to lakeside," the thing burbled.
"Roger that. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Pigasooky comic book ghomupumoop."
"Why don't you take your comic book and shove it in your appendix?" Irma retorted.
The creature looked anemic. "Netufona wroocalamit oolacum, doohoogip," it rumored. "Biflygid!" it continued.
"Your face is a biflygid!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, childish creature; she was feeling unusually disagreeable. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or typist. If she had been carrying a camera, 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 Zimmer will be delighted to see you."
The creature sallied forth slightly and vomited. Then it rose up on its heavy legs, puffed out its thorax and zipped ruefully toward her.
For the first time, Irma had the urge to run, but her knuckle was disintegrating and her legs refused to move.
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