Harley Nixon was on his way home from Buenos Aires after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling decisive now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Citroen, 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 Kansas, etc. etc. "I'm a Geek for Scarring You" by The Glares 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 mouth began to thicken 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 beige 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 important top floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the jungle across the road, then dreamily descended to the ground.
Harley was feeling strangely affable. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in math class. His mouth was still thickening, but he got out of the Citroen and climbed daringly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a flabby creature emerged. It was forest green-ish in color and looked like a cross between a frog and a napkin. It had three grey eyes in its gut. "Nypehoone whugabekod okabyl, mafopen la cefluny, bemanip giclok," the creature said.
"Mother of peanut butter," Harley said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Swipe spider web tape measure sheet metal corkscrew barf to desert," the thing reacted.
"Blah. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Titucecoo statue whupopimol."
"Why don't you take your statue and shove it in your scalp?" Harley retorted.
The creature looked stubby. "Totoyepo crypulujok ytumag, doofatub," it mentioned. "Pyglasol!" it continued.
"Your face is a pyglasol!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, megalomaniacal creature; he was feeling unusually amiable. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or nurse. If he had been carrying a can of shaving cream, 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 Moodle will be delighted to see you."
The creature sidled slightly and played Farmer in the Dell. Then it rose up on its disgusting legs, puffed out its leg and sneaked ignobly toward him.
For the first time, Harley had the urge to run, but his vein was stiffening and his legs refused to move.
Next Chapter