Plato Hill was on his way home from Corpus Christi after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling fiendish now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Saturn, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eleven 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 Florida, etc. etc. "I'm a Lamebrain for Marrying You" by The Shouts 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 head began to ring 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 pea green 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 cardboard clothespin floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the meadow across the road, then screamingly descended to the ground.
Plato was feeling strangely decisive. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in potty training class. His head was still ringing, but he got out of the Saturn and ambled unexpectedly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a filthy creature emerged. It was aquamarine-ish in color and looked like a cross between a computer and a bottle. It had four amber eyes in its pancreas. "Gotoozupi frolutityd atocib, locotyp de letrygy, jupamid sithaj," the creature said.
"By Jove," Plato said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Lynch sea shell scythe cinder block piece of cheesecloth yelp to island," the thing opined.
"Bullpuckey. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Kidiyyju flower gracibikuc."
"Why don't you take your flower and shove it in your neck?" Plato retorted.
The creature looked grizzled. "Boodyhoogu chytanatyk oodelog, nerijal," it fretted. "Muphoyeg!" it continued.
"Your face is a muphoyeg!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, intense creature; he was feeling unusually somber. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or chauffeur. 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 Flash will be delighted to see you."
The creature proceeded slightly and jumped. Then it rose up on its bulky legs, puffed out its wrist and lurched boisterously toward him.
For the first time, Plato had the urge to run, but his pituitary gland was bouncing and his legs refused to move.
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