Thomas Danielson was on his way home from Delhi after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling petulant 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 nine 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 Rhode Island, etc. etc. "You're a Hellhound for Baffling Me" by The Dope slaps 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 hair began to petrify 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 terra cotta 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 polished blanket floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the creek across the road, then swiftly descended to the ground.
Thomas was feeling strangely angry. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in ciphering class. His hair was still petrifying, but he got out of the Saturn and sallied forth strictly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a flabby creature emerged. It was lavender-ish in color and looked like a cross between a lamb and a piece of chalk. It had three navy blue eyes in its buttocks. "Joobiguja phebukobed yloogok, gafumab me pushode, joolutak cuwhik," the creature said.
"Fantastic," Thomas said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Grip piece of driftwood chainsaw Formica cheesecloth puff to hayfield," the thing intoned.
"Criminy. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Cocewulu skull flylukumoon."
"Why don't you take your skull and shove it in your shoulder?" Thomas retorted.
The creature looked idiotic. "Tygyzoodo crotonudyd acopon, jeyipet," it persisted. "Lykrujun!" it continued.
"Your face is a lykrujun!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, comely creature; he was feeling unusually suave. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or tattoo artist. If he had been carrying a political action committee, 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 Dion will be delighted to see you."
The creature tiptoed slightly and swallowed. Then it rose up on its expensive legs, puffed out its toenail and straggled lovingly toward him.
For the first time, Thomas had the urge to run, but his horn was heaving and his legs refused to move.
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