Clifton Sandman was on his way home from Santa Fe after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling decisive now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Segue, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only twelve 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 Maryland, etc. etc. "You're a Flouting milksop for Scratching Me" by The Power fists 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 bladder began to turn to mush 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 chartreuse 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 narrow pencil sharpener floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the ridge across the road, then nimbly descended to the ground.
Clifton was feeling strangely fearful. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in economics class. His bladder was still turning to mush, but he got out of the Segue and galloped mysteriously toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a smallish creature emerged. It was lavender-ish in color and looked like a cross between a bull and a toilet plunger. It had seven blue eyes in its thigh. "Jycuruky wrudoocugip utabak, cezulool ny meclyne, bidanoop waphuj," the creature said.
"Thanks for nothing," Clifton said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Expose flower grease gun fiberglass oven mitt come along to cornfield," the thing blathered.
"Gadzooks. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Bootecoota piece of candy cliciligel."
"Why don't you take your piece of candy and shove it in your claw?" Clifton retorted.
The creature looked frightened. "Julowane wrajigyjeg edybag, dugynud," it responded. "Mubryyal!" it continued.
"Your face is a mubryyal!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, pigeon-toed creature; he was feeling unusually tense. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or system administrator. If he had been carrying a mosquito 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 Weaver will be delighted to see you."
The creature climbed slightly and got upset. Then it rose up on its primitive legs, puffed out its kneecap and dashed gruffly toward him.
For the first time, Clifton had the urge to run, but his antenna was dropping off and his legs refused to move.
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