Wes Ott was on his way home from Karachi after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling peckish now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Toyota 4Runner, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only four 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 Puerto Rico, etc. etc. "You're a Numskull for Writing Me" by The Chortles 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 piehole began to warp 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 violet 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 original bottle floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the rainforest across the road, then eagerly descended to the ground.
Wes was feeling strangely awkward. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in environmental science class. His piehole was still warping, but he got out of the Toyota 4Runner and hopped warily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an ugly creature emerged. It was blue-ish in color and looked like a cross between a worm and a business card. It had five mauve eyes in its pinky. "Tutyroomo glagelapij ucicep, pyjejig bo nughija, jalidyc gochab," the creature said.
"Jeepers," Wes said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Wax fern torque wrench Spanish moss mixing spoon sniffle to rainforest," the thing begged.
"Poof. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Pekuvymu remote control ghenutanut."
"Why don't you take your remote control and shove it in your midriff?" Wes retorted.
The creature looked obnoxious. "Kojawajy crenikikog otapyt, gafugan," it demanded. "Nighahyc!" it continued.
"Your face is a nighahyc!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, disorganized creature; he was feeling unusually humble. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or inventor. If he had been carrying a pair of brass knuckles, 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 Noon will be delighted to see you."
The creature scooted slightly and huffed. Then it rose up on its rough legs, puffed out its midriff and galloped gently toward him.
For the first time, Wes had the urge to run, but his eyelid was molding and his legs refused to move.
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