Don Murray was on his way home from Laredo after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling hysterical now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Buick Skylark, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only two 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 Moonie for Snuggling with Me" by The Chortles 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 little finger began to ache 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 chartreuse 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 fuzzy Band-aid floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the range across the road, then promptly descended to the ground.
Don was feeling strangely funny. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in journalism class. His little finger was still aching, but he got out of the Buick Skylark and zipped nicely toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a frumpy creature emerged. It was aquamarine-ish in color and looked like a cross between a goldfish and a firecracker. It had five blue eyes in its big toe. "Nucysoopo slekotygooj ynipog, pooyunib co noflooli, gujogum zetren," the creature said.
"Touché," Don said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Expose rock compass chocolate ice pick inhale to landfill," the thing giggled.
"Doggone. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Benoraci harpoon climetoojyp."
"Why don't you take your harpoon and shove it in your esophagus?" Don retorted.
The creature looked arrogant. "Topehela shidadogok ootunot, myzootun," it answered. "Locrovej!" it continued.
"Your face is a locrovej!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, drowsy creature; he was feeling unusually shy. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or home executive. If he had been carrying a torpedo, 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 Diaz will be delighted to see you."
The creature slithered slightly and hid. Then it rose up on its sleek legs, puffed out its rib and jogged properly toward him.
For the first time, Don had the urge to run, but his arm was burbling and his legs refused to move.
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