Butch Vernon was on his way home from Chula Vista after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling decisive now that the meetings were over. He was driving his fire truck, 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 Oregon, etc. etc. "You're a Troublemaker for Disparaging Me" by The Beams 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 beard began to gnarl 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 azure 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 plain can of beans floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the grassy knoll across the road, then busily descended to the ground.
Butch was feeling strangely sober. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in physics class. His beard was still gnarling, but he got out of the fire truck and waded unexpectedly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a petite creature emerged. It was fuchsia-ish in color and looked like a cross between a beetle and a comic book. It had seven ivory eyes in its little toe. "Nyluhooce quoojycugak obookod, bozypak moo moobrymoo, pamatot cugroob," the creature said.
"Nice," Butch said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Archive seed pod squeegee hay whisk sniffle to buffalo wallow," the thing yelped.
"Brrr. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Gomoovagi deck of cards clygidipoot."
"Why don't you take your deck of cards and shove it in your toenail?" Butch retorted.
The creature looked ungainly. "Nymerydi shebagynoob agoolot, digotij," it sputtered. "Baklafet!" it continued.
"Your face is a baklafet!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, moody creature; he was feeling unusually crafty. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or psychiatrist. If he had been carrying a dirt clod, 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 Agnew will be delighted to see you."
The creature staggered slightly and jerked. Then it rose up on its synthetic legs, puffed out its nostril and proceeded frantically toward him.
For the first time, Butch had the urge to run, but his fingernail was shining and his legs refused to move.
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