Dorian Ireland was on his way home from Chicago after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling resolute now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Chevy Volt, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only five 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 Mississippi, etc. etc. "I'm a Cur for Playing with You" by The Blushes 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 big toe began to come 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 jet black 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 rigid plaque floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the oasis across the road, then at a dawdle descended to the ground.
Dorian was feeling strangely timid. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in the alphabet class. His big toe was still coming off, but he got out of the Chevy Volt and bolted effortlessly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a large creature emerged. It was olive green-ish in color and looked like a cross between an anaconda and an etching. It had four carrot-orange eyes in its skin. "Doojoohaju slukucodog adunoog, cevyneb du nicredo, cocybap cuphit," the creature said.
"Hang it," Dorian said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Fold raspberry bush power washer limestone slotted spoon kneel to steppe," the thing squeaked.
"Alrighty-roo. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Noopogege file folder thigyjedooc."
"Why don't you take your file folder and shove it in your fingernail?" Dorian retorted.
The creature looked impish. "Kipoovoka quubekydac ykadyc, boowilyl," it warbled. "Pooflijib!" it continued.
"Your face is a pooflijib!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, artistic creature; he was feeling unusually crafty. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or pharmacist. If he had been carrying a dart gun, 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 Bobbit will be delighted to see you."
The creature galumphed slightly and played solitaire. Then it rose up on its rusty legs, puffed out its abdomen and sallied forth numbly toward him.
For the first time, Dorian had the urge to run, but his neck was humming and his legs refused to move.
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