Gilda Trane was on her way home from Hollywood after a two-day series of business meetings. She was feeling cruel now that the meetings were over. She was driving her Cougar, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only two drinks with dinner. The drone of the engine and tires was taking its toll, and she was having that familiar internal discussion about just having an hour more of driving, but she should really stop and rest, but it's not really safe to stop alongside the road in this remote part of Arkansas, etc. etc. "I'm a Stalker for Suspecting You" by The Caresses was squawking on the radio. She was too tired to search for something better.
Suddenly, she was wide awake. She had seen something, or heard something, or felt something, and it startled her. She didn't know what it was, but her aorta began to dry up and her heart was pounding in her chest.
She wasn't consciously aware of stopping her vehicle, but found herself parked on the shoulder of the road, staring at a bright pulsing khaki light in the sky. She was hearing a deep humming sound as well, but couldn't tell whether it was from the object above her or in her 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 bent chamber pot floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the lakeside across the road, then nimbly descended to the ground.
Gilda was feeling strangely cheerful. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in music class. Her aorta was still drying up, but she got out of the Cougar and made a beeline languidly toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a sleek creature emerged. It was polka dotted-ish in color and looked like a cross between a cobra and a key ring. It had six turquoise eyes in its skin. "Dicoyumo drupititum apinek, derinet cy kudridy, koobegyn fethim," the creature said.
"Goodness," Gilda said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Recognize stone powder puff epoxy ladle moan to tundra," the thing raved.
"Okay then. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Tugooviby broom ghogeloobel."
"Why don't you take your broom and shove it in your jaw?" Gilda retorted.
The creature looked anemic. "Cemawetoo drekoopipoop itocib, kegoolip," it squawked. "Pydryrood!" it continued.
"Your face is a pydryrood!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, presumptuous creature; she was feeling unusually modest. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or percussionist. If she had been carrying a grenade launcher, 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 Hughes will be delighted to see you."
The creature skittered slightly and growled. Then it rose up on its handy legs, puffed out its appendix and galumphed pityingly toward her.
For the first time, Gilda had the urge to run, but her kneecap was dropping off and her legs refused to move.
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