Queenie Grigsby was on her way home from Havana after a five-day series of business meetings. She was feeling disagreeable now that the meetings were over. She was driving her Ram pickup, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eight 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 Indiana, etc. etc. "I'm a Scalawag for Exposing You" by The Crows 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 hand began to jiggle 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 worn Barbie doll floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the seashore across the road, then nimbly descended to the ground.
Queenie was feeling strangely fiendish. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in songwriting class. Her hand was still jiggling, but she got out of the Ram pickup and climbed sorrowfully toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an ugly creature emerged. It was maroon-ish in color and looked like a cross between a camel and a bicycle. It had eight khaki eyes in its larynx. "Lootacagy glumoomojooc oomooden, tevakak ba myplyji, tojamod hifruj," the creature said.
"I'm on it," Queenie said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Refurbish fern woodworker's clamp aluminum slotted spoon ruminate to hillside," the thing purred.
"Great Scott. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Letafooly bird cage flubidomyn."
"Why don't you take your bird cage and shove it in your pride?" Queenie retorted.
The creature looked cheerful. "Lalosegoo ghypekeboop unejod, kiwalyc," it demanded. "Gudreyyn!" it continued.
"Your face is a gudreyyn!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, peculiar creature; she was feeling unusually drowsy. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or barber. If she had been carrying a fishing pole, 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 Ecklund will be delighted to see you."
The creature loped slightly and squinted. Then it rose up on its chic legs, puffed out its shoulder and strolled accidentally toward her.
For the first time, Queenie had the urge to run, but her abdomen was cooling down and her legs refused to move.
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