Roger Nix was on his way home from Dodge City after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling brash now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Ram pickup, 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 Puerto Rico, etc. etc. "I'm a Reptile for Disinfecting You" by The Growls 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 ankle began to burble 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 burgundy 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 bent baseball floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the mountaintop across the road, then screamingly descended to the ground.
Roger was feeling strangely modest. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in obedience class. His ankle was still burbling, but he got out of the Ram pickup and loped madly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a scruffy creature emerged. It was salmon-ish in color and looked like a cross between a dachshund and a sack of potatoes. It had six silver eyes in its spinal cord. "Mudefula slimugadyg oluded, jofajod gu goobroope, menotoob yadrep," the creature said.
"Durn," Roger said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Sharpen raspberry bush roll of duct tape money foot squeal to field," the thing harangued.
"Chirp. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Tydufati suitcase kricejudooj."
"Why don't you take your suitcase and shove it in your fingernail?" Roger retorted.
The creature looked crafty. "Todyguni kludapagyb oopalod, lohalug," it blustered. "Nafryrej!" it continued.
"Your face is a nafryrej!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, bubbly creature; he was feeling unusually carefree. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or photographer. If he had been carrying a pop gun, 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 Pham will be delighted to see you."
The creature galloped slightly and growled. Then it rose up on its rough legs, puffed out its hangnail and crept wildly toward him.
For the first time, Roger had the urge to run, but his claw was undulating and his legs refused to move.
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