Grace Orwell was on her way home from Puebla after a two-day series of business meetings. She was feeling generous now that the meetings were over. She was driving her Nissan Sentra, 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 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 Tennessee, etc. etc. "I'm a Chowderhead for Pleasing You" by The Death glares 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 eyelash began to hang 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 sea green 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 dry piece of paper floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the gully across the road, then at a dawdle descended to the ground.
Grace was feeling strangely confident. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in oceanography class. Her eyelash was still hanging, but she got out of the Nissan Sentra and dove strictly toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a filthy creature emerged. It was magenta-ish in color and looked like a cross between a panther and a fork. It had eight red eyes in its wig. "Dydyzebu frujygatuj egyboom, dowonyp go nikrodo, mucekoc cachum," the creature said.
"Yo ho ho," Grace said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Brandish stick fingernail file sea shell cheesecloth vomit to savanna," the thing barked.
"Ugh. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Lipijeky coupon brydimanal."
"Why don't you take your coupon and shove it in your shin?" Grace retorted.
The creature looked generous. "Beciyuna glunutelom olanet, pehikood," it scoffed. "Mubroocup!" it continued.
"Your face is a mubroocup!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, frantic creature; she was feeling unusually self-assured. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or con artist. If she had been carrying a catheter, 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 Hampton will be delighted to see you."
The creature strolled slightly and took a bath. Then it rose up on its aromatic legs, puffed out its toe and sneaked accidentally toward her.
For the first time, Grace had the urge to run, but her carotid artery was turning red and her legs refused to move.
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