Dirk LaSalle was on his way home from Wichita after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling calm now that the meetings were over. He was driving his donkey cart, 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 Puerto Rico, etc. etc. "I'm a Worm for Winking at You" by The Flushes 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 vein began to slide 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 jet black 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 hand-carved pepper grinder floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the neighborhood across the road, then easily descended to the ground.
Dirk was feeling strangely calm. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in Russian class. His vein was still sliding, but he got out of the donkey cart and capered neatly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a petite creature emerged. It was purple-ish in color and looked like a cross between a mosquito and a Van Gogh. It had four violet eyes in its hair. "Tikifygi slynutilig agugab, ligagog goo loosloopo, cekoomoot vishob," the creature said.
"Chirp," Dirk said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Moisten acorn roll of duct tape peanut butter wooden spoon creep to dump," the thing rationalized.
"Scat. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Lypizygi fishhook bragamupook."
"Why don't you take your fishhook and shove it in your belly?" Dirk retorted.
The creature looked melancholic. "Goopoowypo quubabujec yducym, bosojoob," it stormed. "Jafrucub!" it continued.
"Your face is a jafrucub!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, paranoid creature; he was feeling unusually sarcastic. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or therapist. If he had been carrying a wet noodle, 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 Goossens will be delighted to see you."
The creature marched slightly and cheered up. Then it rose up on its striking legs, puffed out its ear and loped angrily toward him.
For the first time, Dirk had the urge to run, but his eyelid was turning around and his legs refused to move.
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