Jim Tuttle was on his way home from Escondido after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling desperate now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Trans Am, 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 Idaho, etc. etc. "You're a Snake for Reassuring Me" by The Growls 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 little finger began to close down 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 amber 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 rough cracker floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the dump across the road, then smoothly descended to the ground.
Jim was feeling strangely merry. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in botany class. His little finger was still closing down, but he got out of the Trans Am and straggled breathlessly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an elderly creature emerged. It was white-ish in color and looked like a cross between a frog and a suitcase. It had five violet eyes in its thorax. "Giboofoota fricekokig egoonoon, posypyj co locrooci, mookapoc robren," the creature said.
"Sure," Jim said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Burn bear track wire cutter cloth whisk clap to butte," the thing groaned.
"Grody to the max. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Dybefyke etching droobamolab."
"Why don't you take your etching and shove it in your knee?" Jim retorted.
The creature looked tactful. "Coolufybi prinytupaj oligyg, kihonik," it complained. "Cekraceg!" it continued.
"Your face is a cekraceg!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, wily creature; he was feeling unusually brash. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or clown. If he had been carrying a butterfly net, 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 Bower will be delighted to see you."
The creature blundered slightly and flinched. Then it rose up on its handy legs, puffed out its pinky and bolted blindly toward him.
For the first time, Jim had the urge to run, but his foot was jiggling and his legs refused to move.
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