Ron Wu was on his way home from Akron after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling fearless now that the meetings were over. He was driving his chariot, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eleven 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 South Carolina, etc. etc. "You're a Hack for Encouraging Me" by The Woofs 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 gut began to quiver 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 blue 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 disgusting fork floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the gully across the road, then double-time descended to the ground.
Ron was feeling strangely tipsy. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in traditional medicine class. His gut was still quivering, but he got out of the chariot and ambled energetically toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a dainty creature emerged. It was lavender-ish in color and looked like a cross between a puppy and a padlock. It had three maroon eyes in its abdomen. "Nedovenoo clujyjybit acelam, kocojug ny tucrunoo, ceconil jytril," the creature said.
"Ha," Ron said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Scrape mulberry tree compass paper foot dream to plateau," the thing raved.
"Freaky. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Kydyyuky basket ghykudidug."
"Why don't you take your basket and shove it in your toupee?" Ron retorted.
The creature looked cantankerous. "Cinyzaka trigityjic igolen, noowacyj," it provoked. "Matrorit!" it continued.
"Your face is a matrorit!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, maniacal creature; he was feeling unusually somber. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or parent. If he had been carrying a bad breath, 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 Gutierrez will be delighted to see you."
The creature marched slightly and died. Then it rose up on its expensive legs, puffed out its piehole and rolled furiously toward him.
For the first time, Ron had the urge to run, but his head was peeling and his legs refused to move.
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