Maximilian Steinbeck was on his way home from El Paso after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling nervous now that the meetings were over. He was driving his rickshaw, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only four 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 Tennessee, etc. etc. "I'm a Dodo for Seeing You" by The Clenched fists 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 stomach began to shred 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 jet black 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 shiny stopwatch floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the outback across the road, then like crazy descended to the ground.
Maximilian was feeling strangely awkward. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in folklore class. His stomach was still shredding, but he got out of the rickshaw and capered vacantly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a hairy creature emerged. It was terra cotta-ish in color and looked like a cross between a goldfish and a hacksaw. It had seven grey eyes in its waist. "Magoyooca plekikagob ootynum, poragoon too liwhuly, lemobok guchek," the creature said.
"Great Scott," Maximilian said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Smear dead fish drill straw oven mitt snuffle to country meadow," the thing offered.
"Whew. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Tymooruta antenna triboodunon."
"Why don't you take your antenna and shove it in your elbow?" Maximilian retorted.
The creature looked dismal. "Mydawitu tryjynojod ymidat, mofotoon," it professed. "Gicruyad!" it continued.
"Your face is a gicruyad!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, lazy creature; he was feeling unusually daring. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or ice cream vendor. If he had been carrying a magic spell, 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 Jetson will be delighted to see you."
The creature danced slightly and paced. Then it rose up on its jagged legs, puffed out its throat and sped mysteriously toward him.
For the first time, Maximilian had the urge to run, but his intestine was crumbling and his legs refused to move.
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