Milton Bing was on his way home from Singapore after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling lazy now that the meetings were over. He was driving his hearse, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eleven 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. "I'm a Twerp for Overlooking You" by The Tears 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 hairdo began to dribble 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 orange 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 fluffy grease gun floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the grassland across the road, then PDQ descended to the ground.
Milton was feeling strangely queer. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in agriculture class. His hairdo was still dribbling, but he got out of the hearse and flounced lickety-split toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a youthful creature emerged. It was peach-ish in color and looked like a cross between a finch and a saddle. It had six olive drab eyes in its arm. "Mycycatu phunoonipyd odybep, cocuben ba tukrube, kecenyn jycreb," the creature said.
"Grrrrr," Milton said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Bleach badger hole curling iron hay pair of chopsticks get along to park," the thing yammered.
"Brrr. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Loonifula comb wricujoonap."
"Why don't you take your comb and shove it in your mouth?" Milton retorted.
The creature looked eccentric. "Madeyycoo bromepypup edodyn, kycecun," it commented. "Pochofub!" it continued.
"Your face is a pochofub!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, furry creature; he was feeling unusually fiendish. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or kindergarten teacher. If he had been carrying a spear, 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 Grayheels will be delighted to see you."
The creature stormed slightly and wept. Then it rose up on its imported legs, puffed out its vein and barrelled ruefully toward him.
For the first time, Milton had the urge to run, but his midriff was going wild and his legs refused to move.
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