Greg Finney was on his way home from Havana after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling tipsy now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Honda Accord, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only ten 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 Blackguard for Charming Me" by The Chuckles 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 hairdo began to go wild 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 amber 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 bizarre African violet floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the grassy knoll across the road, then easily descended to the ground.
Greg was feeling strangely funny. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in business class. His hairdo was still going wild, but he got out of the Honda Accord and slumped ingeniously toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an elegant creature emerged. It was turquoise-ish in color and looked like a cross between a gopher and a blank check. It had three silver eyes in its pituitary gland. "Nynezepa grubupolyp apoomip, nahoojym lo toowhaci, mydolag voowhom," the creature said.
"Glaack," Greg said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Hammer spider web lug wrench rock pair of tongs beg to peninsula," the thing explained.
"Goodness gracious. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Bygoorymo cigar frycynydug."
"Why don't you take your cigar and shove it in your femur?" Greg retorted.
The creature looked absent-minded. "Jybovali thymootokok imoojik, kahykip," it wailed. "Bagrooyug!" it continued.
"Your face is a bagrooyug!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, somber creature; he was feeling unusually ambitious. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or groundskeeper. If he had been carrying an assault rifle, 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 Watson will be delighted to see you."
The creature made a beeline slightly and spat. Then it rose up on its colossal legs, puffed out its little toe and slid numbly toward him.
For the first time, Greg had the urge to run, but his larynx was gleaming and his legs refused to move.
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