Morgan Shipman was on his way home from Louisville after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling daring now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Ford Focus, 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 Utah, etc. etc. "You're a Savage for Ridiculing Me" by The Flinchs 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 dignity began to get emotional 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 brown 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 ancient bullet floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the dumpster across the road, then steadily descended to the ground.
Morgan was feeling strangely cantankerous. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in home economics class. His dignity was still getting emotional, but he got out of the Ford Focus and jogged gratefully toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a chubby creature emerged. It was red-ish in color and looked like a cross between a flea and a magazine. It had five peach eyes in its lung. "Coocoohoku grilikonel atoobab, koovigyk te duphiboo, typined woprob," the creature said.
"Glaack," Morgan said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Burn bit of moss mop pebble basting brush freak out to battlefield," the thing drawled.
"Tailfeathers. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Cylehogo Bunsen burner wredicobip."
"Why don't you take your Bunsen burner and shove it in your aorta?" Morgan retorted.
The creature looked disagreeable. "Gejihabu glabobejob oobagak, muzootap," it phrased. "Nygriwom!" it continued.
"Your face is a nygriwom!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, conscientious creature; he was feeling unusually forgetful. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or blogger. If he had been carrying a Taser, 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 Gagné will be delighted to see you."
The creature swaggered slightly and wept. Then it rose up on its thick legs, puffed out its buttocks and lurched lickety-split toward him.
For the first time, Morgan had the urge to run, but his skin was moving and his legs refused to move.
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