Kyra Hudson was on her way home from Hong Kong after a five-day series of business meetings. She was feeling resolute now that the meetings were over. She was driving her Ford Fairlane, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only ten drinks with dinner. The drone of the engine and tires was taking its toll, and she was having that familiar internal discussion about just having an hour more of driving, but she should really stop and rest, but it's not really safe to stop alongside the road in this remote part of New Hampshire, etc. etc. "I'm a Baby for Touching You" by The Winces was squawking on the radio. She was too tired to search for something better.
Suddenly, she was wide awake. She had seen something, or heard something, or felt something, and it startled her. She didn't know what it was, but her shoulder began to expand and her heart was pounding in her chest.
She wasn't consciously aware of stopping her vehicle, but found herself parked on the shoulder of the road, staring at a bright pulsing lavender light in the sky. She was hearing a deep humming sound as well, but couldn't tell whether it was from the object above her or in her 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 golden calling card floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the beach across the road, then at a dawdle descended to the ground.
Kyra was feeling strangely sober. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in French class. Her shoulder was still expanding, but she got out of the Ford Fairlane and set out lovingly toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an elegant creature emerged. It was beige-ish in color and looked like a cross between a honeybee and a sack. It had eight sea green eyes in its front tooth. "Kybuvonoo krogakujooc idaboog, nyyegad ne bukrebo, mecoonel fydred," the creature said.
"Pshaw," Kyra said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Drag rock hacksaw pulp oven mitt get upset to valley," the thing informed.
"I beg your pardon. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Nyleguty chain plidutogoom."
"Why don't you take your chain and shove it in your thorax?" Kyra retorted.
The creature looked poised. "Mobasoci wrecucidac yputoom, buyipyn," it sighed. "Leghuroon!" it continued.
"Your face is a leghuroon!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, humble creature; she was feeling unusually petulant. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or referee. If she had been carrying a pair of scissors, 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 Sekora will be delighted to see you."
The creature proceeded slightly and quivered. Then it rose up on its overgrown legs, puffed out its carotid artery and barrelled effortlessly toward her.
For the first time, Kyra had the urge to run, but her wig was decaying and her legs refused to move.
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