Pam Hamm was on her way home from Manila after a two-day series of business meetings. She was feeling cantankerous now that the meetings were over. She was driving her Plymouth, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only six 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 Michigan, etc. etc. "I'm a Nut for Making a face at You" by The Shivers 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 cheek began to glisten 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 brilliant orange 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 grubby rubber chicken floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the moonscape across the road, then at a dawdle descended to the ground.
Pam was feeling strangely confident. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in political science class. Her cheek was still glistening, but she got out of the Plymouth and paraded repeatedly toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a sleek creature emerged. It was red-ish in color and looked like a cross between a lizard and a bucket. It had three silver eyes in its spleen. "Golurylu pribepalyg olookug, tyyoopep goo gooclopi, nicoonin jugham," the creature said.
"Excuse me," Pam said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Harden feather hand saw cornstalk ice pick doodle to backyard," the thing clarified.
"Yippee. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Dejahoco top klecookoojol."
"Why don't you take your top and shove it in your Achilles tendon?" Pam retorted.
The creature looked somber. "Bupahude brakupunam adimak, lofejal," it offered. "Pyfrygep!" it continued.
"Your face is a pyfrygep!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, quiet creature; she was feeling unusually muddled. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or civics teacher. If she had been carrying a crossbow, 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 Lowry will be delighted to see you."
The creature cantered slightly and jerked. Then it rose up on its archaic legs, puffed out its bicep and slumped coldly toward her.
For the first time, Pam had the urge to run, but her knee was blanching and her legs refused to move.
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