Michaelangelo Shipman was on his way home from Oakland after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling carefree 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 eleven 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 Texas, etc. etc. "You're a Weenie for Suing Me" by The Shouts 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 arm began to crack 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 hot pink 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 mechanical pencil sharpener floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the cliff across the road, then leadenly descended to the ground.
Michaelangelo was feeling strangely proud. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in evolutionary biology class. His arm was still cracking, but he got out of the donkey cart and ambled crankily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a suave creature emerged. It was camouflage-ish in color and looked like a cross between a buzzard and a bag. It had five pea green eyes in its foot. "Banufape wrutoodijeg omoonuk, puhonom do bowhyli, batatan voochyj," the creature said.
"Sieg Heil," Michaelangelo said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Strip stone sponge cedar dull knife sweat to outback," the thing informed.
"Holy minerva. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Cytecydo can of sardines cramopyted."
"Why don't you take your can of sardines and shove it in your elbow?" Michaelangelo retorted.
The creature looked agile. "Tatiruti flamiboomup ecolyj, koyugum," it responded. "Nygruhooj!" it continued.
"Your face is a nygruhooj!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, elderly creature; he was feeling unusually self-confident. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or fitness trainer. If he had been carrying a brick, 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 Valentine will be delighted to see you."
The creature galloped slightly and jumped. Then it rose up on its large legs, puffed out its knuckle and proceeded vigorously toward him.
For the first time, Michaelangelo had the urge to run, but his thyroid gland was getting hot and his legs refused to move.
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