Donnie Bob DeMille was on his way home from Panama City after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling sarcastic now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Buick Le Sabre, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eight 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 Vermont, etc. etc. "You're a Madman for Grilling Me" by The Flushes 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 nose began to contract 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 rose 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 odd battery floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the outback across the road, then eagerly descended to the ground.
Donnie Bob was feeling strangely calm. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in computer science class. His nose was still contracting, but he got out of the Buick Le Sabre and skipped valiantly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a grubby creature emerged. It was carrot-orange-ish in color and looked like a cross between a penguin and a football. It had six peach eyes in its waist. "Datocupu flupucogyb ocekeb, baraluc mi gooquopy, jimacook caclet," the creature said.
"Golly," Donnie Bob said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Smash flower straightedge satin sharp knife rest to wasteland," the thing invited.
"Can it. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Nogajypo smart phone quecemoonek."
"Why don't you take your smart phone and shove it in your shoulder?" Donnie Bob retorted.
The creature looked sensible. "Jigiroono shedylomot abyteb, dyzylyn," it disputed. "Tiklehood!" it continued.
"Your face is a tiklehood!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, anemic creature; he was feeling unusually resolute. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or winemaker. If he had been carrying a smoke bomb, 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 Barker will be delighted to see you."
The creature trotted slightly and crept. Then it rose up on its modern legs, puffed out its rib and sallied forth frantically toward him.
For the first time, Donnie Bob had the urge to run, but his waist was perspiring and his legs refused to move.
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