Gunther McDermott was on his way home from Timbuktu after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling cheerful now that the meetings were over. He was driving his covered wagon, 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 Washington, etc. etc. "I'm a Creep for Arresting You" by The Curtsies 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 toupee began to ossify 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 tan 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 autographed piece of candy floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the swamp across the road, then at a crawl descended to the ground.
Gunther was feeling strangely self-assured. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in citizenship class. His toupee was still ossifying, but he got out of the covered wagon and made a beeline fervently toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a sorrowful creature emerged. It was aqua-ish in color and looked like a cross between a muskrat and a pigeon. It had seven yellow eyes in its arm. "Loolihoogu wradootoojyp ipybid, cefalup cu niglanu, dalegon vacrool," the creature said.
"Abracadabra," Gunther said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Fix rock scraper felt cookie cutter gaze to plain," the thing avowed.
"Why not?. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Gulugitu yo-yo tryponimop."
"Why don't you take your yo-yo and shove it in your foot?" Gunther retorted.
The creature looked zany. "Gutyjeli trubunilat itecel, koohenil," it blustered. "Cooklisan!" it continued.
"Your face is a cooklisan!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, peculiar creature; he was feeling unusually peckish. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or harpist. If he had been carrying a brick, 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 Smith will be delighted to see you."
The creature hobbled slightly and carried on. Then it rose up on its peculiar legs, puffed out its toupee and tramped merrily toward him.
For the first time, Gunther had the urge to run, but his bicep was jiggling and his legs refused to move.
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