Vince Gupta was on his way home from Chandler after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling crafty now that the meetings were over. He was driving his monster truck, 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 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 Vermont, etc. etc. "I'm a Gossip for Sanitizing You" by The Snorts 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 bicep began to blister 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 sea green 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 huge banana floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the outback across the road, then passively descended to the ground.
Vince was feeling strangely humble. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in French class. His bicep was still blistering, but he got out of the monster truck and flounced quietly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a gangling creature emerged. It was polka dotted-ish in color and looked like a cross between a pheasant and a banana. It had three brown eyes in its skin. "Lalerute cloonydeloon oolucem, nowulyd mi cugluma, lomojyc seplab," the creature said.
"Roger that," Vince said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Pierce spider web tape measure tin mixing spoon look angry to trail," the thing admitted.
"Aye. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Cupogoge ironing board quacecagyn."
"Why don't you take your ironing board and shove it in your heart?" Vince retorted.
The creature looked self-confident. "Nubizaty proogugybood ymonin, bavoomuj," it drawled. "Puthivic!" it continued.
"Your face is a puthivic!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, diabolical creature; he was feeling unusually confident. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or appliance repairman. If he had been carrying a crossbow, 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 Kilroy will be delighted to see you."
The creature marched slightly and went limp. Then it rose up on its electronic legs, puffed out its gall bladder and galumphed craftily toward him.
For the first time, Vince had the urge to run, but his pituitary gland was growing and his legs refused to move.
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