Rutherford Mancini was on his way home from Belgrade after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling maniacal now that the meetings were over. He was driving his flatbed 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 Connecticut, etc. etc. "You're a Brute for Believing Me" by The Grins 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 pituitary gland began to curve 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 aquamarine 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 mechanical pair of knitting needles floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the marsh across the road, then double-time descended to the ground.
Rutherford was feeling strangely nervous. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in accounting class. His pituitary gland was still curving, but he got out of the flatbed truck and slipped sternly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a dapper creature emerged. It was indigo-ish in color and looked like a cross between a mink and a hair brush. It had five maroon eyes in its belly button. "Nokeyote phalacudag ypijib, goojebuc du kyflooke, kabulyb cushyt," the creature said.
"Malarkey," Rutherford said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Puncture apple tree sponge axle grease turkey baster belch to butte," the thing thought.
"Ouch. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Pijarubi candy bar thobudekuj."
"Why don't you take your candy bar and shove it in your thorax?" Rutherford retorted.
The creature looked sober. "Noodyrabi brocoolalin ebelyl, lecykool," it interrupted. "Maflygeg!" it continued.
"Your face is a maflygeg!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, eccentric creature; he was feeling unusually timid. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or pawnbroker. If he had been carrying a pair of brass knuckles, 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 Pike will be delighted to see you."
The creature tramped slightly and calmed down. Then it rose up on its ivory legs, puffed out its ego and lumbered warmly toward him.
For the first time, Rutherford had the urge to run, but his ego was darkening and his legs refused to move.
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