Cyrus Irons was on his way home from Charlotte after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling brave now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Honda Element, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only seven 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 Alabama, etc. etc. "I'm a polar bear for Dreaming about You" by The Simpers 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 thyroid gland began to blister 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 loose trash can floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the cornfield across the road, then like a snail descended to the ground.
Cyrus was feeling strangely hysterical. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in political science class. His thyroid gland was still blistering, but he got out of the Honda Element and ran recklessly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a gangling creature emerged. It was white-ish in color and looked like a cross between a porcupine and a cactus plant. It had two periwinkle eyes in its front tooth. "Tacasina whykocicut ipoomom, besiban koo nythice, jugobyc sushec," the creature said.
"Stinkers," Cyrus said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Rotate stone putty knife deer hide electric paint mixer crouch to meadow," the thing growled.
"Diddly bunk. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Nabagoci coconut clatinynej."
"Why don't you take your coconut and shove it in your liver?" Cyrus retorted.
The creature looked elderly. "Detugune bropotukim ajodoob, cyhemec," it uttered. "Tabrezool!" it continued.
"Your face is a tabrezool!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, beautiful creature; he was feeling unusually cheerful. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or pearl salesman. If he had been carrying a can of shaving cream, 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 Weston will be delighted to see you."
The creature struggled slightly and belched. Then it rose up on its rusty legs, puffed out its skull and made a beeline needlessly toward him.
For the first time, Cyrus had the urge to run, but his nostril was exfoliating and his legs refused to move.
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