Dusty Dowd was on her way home from Capetown after a three-day series of business meetings. She was feeling crafty now that the meetings were over. She was driving her tractor, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only nine 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 Weenie for Berating You" by The Honks 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 heel began to itch 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 brown 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 valuable sack floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the hillside across the road, then leadenly descended to the ground.
Dusty was feeling strangely cruel. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in psychology class. Her heel was still itching, but she got out of the tractor and bounced tearfully toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a winsome creature emerged. It was crimson-ish in color and looked like a cross between a worm and a cactus plant. It had seven metallic red eyes in its horn. "Lucifige dramiloopij emegud, tuyedec ci mechyce, toopateg sothop," the creature said.
"Lo and behold," Dusty said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Pulverize tree jigsaw sewage pair of chopsticks apologize to crime scene," the thing amended.
"Well. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Lepizeta lute phookolylag."
"Why don't you take your lute and shove it in your hair?" Dusty retorted.
The creature looked ambitious. "Lynoofyje crytigecym ookylic, cawyjij," it insisted. "Duflujud!" it continued.
"Your face is a duflujud!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, portly creature; she was feeling unusually self-assured. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or web guru. If she had been carrying a soldering 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 Velasquez will be delighted to see you."
The creature sped slightly and passed out. Then it rose up on its queer legs, puffed out its eyelid and sped gracefully toward her.
For the first time, Dusty had the urge to run, but her pancreas was getting wonky and her legs refused to move.
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