Timothy Ping was on his way home from Bellevue after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling resolute now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Mazda RX-7, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only three 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 Alaska, etc. etc. "I'm a Villain for Transforming You" by The Snickers 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 cheek began to perk 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 grey 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 bent ashtray floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the cliff across the road, then easily descended to the ground.
Timothy was feeling strangely queer. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in hygiene class. His cheek was still perking up, but he got out of the Mazda RX-7 and stormed crossly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a pale creature emerged. It was blue-ish in color and looked like a cross between an otter and a bird cage. It had three terra cotta eyes in its thorax. "Boolegadoo flapicogal imugom, moohetod ny gechudo, gooconag sitrap," the creature said.
"By Jove," Timothy said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Duplicate bird's nest corkscrew cellophane meat thermometer clap to grassland," the thing asked.
"No way. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Kinejuku pair of dice klamagelib."
"Why don't you take your pair of dice and shove it in your palm?" Timothy retorted.
The creature looked coy. "Dutefuly quamomimob etiget, coojenek," it intimated. "Ligrooyool!" it continued.
"Your face is a ligrooyool!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, sloppy creature; he was feeling unusually suave. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or crime scene investigator. If he had been carrying a branding iron, 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 Washington will be delighted to see you."
The creature sped slightly and thought. Then it rose up on its multicolored legs, puffed out its forehead and marched warily toward him.
For the first time, Timothy had the urge to run, but his pancreas was tingling and his legs refused to move.
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