Brandon Watson was on his way home from Ottawa after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling fiendish 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 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 Maine, etc. etc. "I'm a Gump for Caressing You" by The Laughs 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 hoof began to relax 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 lavender 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 wet stuffed owl floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the creek across the road, then indolently descended to the ground.
Brandon was feeling strangely peculiar. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in philosophy class. His hoof was still relaxing, but he got out of the Toyota 4Runner and crept woefully toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a beautiful creature emerged. It was metallic red-ish in color and looked like a cross between a bison and a bugle. It had five red eyes in its aorta. "Kanyrejo flekicicyj oolidet, pyhudul loo jiflana, noodogap gaquuc," the creature said.
"Of course," Brandon said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Remove stick chainsaw ash garlic press blow up to marsh," the thing lamented.
"Bada bing bada boom. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Tupiheni shovel kracoonelut."
"Why don't you take your shovel and shove it in your spleen?" Brandon retorted.
The creature looked fiendish. "Pelyzoody frobecolyk ebomyp, cocoonol," it insisted. "Miwrasan!" it continued.
"Your face is a miwrasan!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, repulsive creature; he was feeling unusually peckish. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or telemarketer. If he had been carrying a hand sanitizer, 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 staggered slightly and barfed. Then it rose up on its fluffy legs, puffed out its thyroid gland and proceeded hastily toward him.
For the first time, Brandon had the urge to run, but his midriff was expanding and his legs refused to move.
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