Shamus Overland was on his way home from Modesto after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling petulant now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Dodge Dart, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only seven 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 Montana, etc. etc. "You're a Vixen for Charming Me" by The Flutters 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 artery began to jam 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 crimson 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 tiny paper bag floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the lagoon across the road, then ploddingly descended to the ground.
Shamus was feeling strangely ambitious. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in information science class. His artery was still jamming up, but he got out of the Dodge Dart and ran speedily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an elderly creature emerged. It was metallic red-ish in color and looked like a cross between a cocker spaniel and a bicycle. It had six yellow eyes in its lip. "Kuberenoo flojomacon upoput, duragag ji peclame, mocoodud zooshyg," the creature said.
"Teehee," Shamus said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Melt deer track whisk broom Bakelite food processor slobber to meadow," the thing said.
"Oh joy. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Tibefoki paper towel pronoonegob."
"Why don't you take your paper towel and shove it in your mouth?" Shamus retorted.
The creature looked forgetful. "Pycoceku plinakucool yjepoop, juvoopud," it said. "Kyphasup!" it continued.
"Your face is a kyphasup!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, somber creature; he was feeling unusually forgetful. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or gambler. If he had been carrying a Colt 45, 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 Usher will be delighted to see you."
The creature padded slightly and fulminated. Then it rose up on its burned legs, puffed out its tummy and paraded unexpectedly toward him.
For the first time, Shamus had the urge to run, but his adrenal gland was gleaming and his legs refused to move.
Next Chapter