Darryl Fosbender was on his way home from Berlin after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling resolute now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Toyota Corolla, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only five 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 Wisconsin, etc. etc. "You're a Wastrel for Soothing Me" by The Coos 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 calf began to turn around 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 olive green 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 huge doll floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the neighborhood across the road, then idly descended to the ground.
Darryl was feeling strangely peculiar. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in meteorology class. His calf was still turning around, but he got out of the Toyota Corolla and struggled quietly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a lean creature emerged. It was jade-ish in color and looked like a cross between a rooster and a can of beer. It had three beige eyes in its lung. "Bycuzici slogikacal oguned, behoonom ma kooglego, tebolul wipryl," the creature said.
"Caramba," Darryl said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Package stick vacuum cleaner construction paper turkey baster cogitate to bog," the thing voiced.
"Duh. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Poobayooby fish wrykypookook."
"Why don't you take your fish and shove it in your kneecap?" Darryl retorted.
The creature looked carefree. "Cootuhoomi fretoolyboj olabol, gyfyjoj," it railed. "Dighosool!" it continued.
"Your face is a dighosool!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, deadly creature; he was feeling unusually fearful. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or entertainer. If he had been carrying a scimitar, 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 Simpson will be delighted to see you."
The creature tore slightly and chanted. Then it rose up on its damp legs, puffed out its belly and capered delicately toward him.
For the first time, Darryl had the urge to run, but his toupee was enlarging and his legs refused to move.
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