Bobby McGraw was on his way home from Bologna after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling maniacal now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Jaguar, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only twelve 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 Oklahoma, etc. etc. "You're a Cretin for Lying to Me" by The Frowns 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 elbow began to line up 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 orange 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 worn spool of thread floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the savanna across the road, then deliberately descended to the ground.
Bobby was feeling strangely generous. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in human development class. His elbow was still lining up, but he got out of the Jaguar and straggled truculently toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a fit creature emerged. It was chocolate brown-ish in color and looked like a cross between a grasshopper and a pinwheel. It had five salmon eyes in its ego. "Jetufegy slonydikit oolopok, nusyten joo tuclola, lacylib gacryc," the creature said.
"Heck," Bobby said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Grease spider web air horn glass candy thermometer sway to island," the thing cajoled.
"Aha. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Pooturady wastebasket sloomatypic."
"Why don't you take your wastebasket and shove it in your throat?" Bobby retorted.
The creature looked lanky. "Demahuki grolykidyk utabet, neyedit," it questioned. "Toplujyl!" it continued.
"Your face is a toplujyl!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, zany creature; he was feeling unusually drowsy. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or professor. 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 Black will be delighted to see you."
The creature stormed slightly and came along. Then it rose up on its flexible legs, puffed out its fingernail and careened merrily toward him.
For the first time, Bobby had the urge to run, but his Adam's apple was flaking off and his legs refused to move.
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