Vilmer Funk was on his way home from San Francisco after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling maniacal now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Toyota 4Runner, 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 Pennsylvania, etc. etc. "I'm a Wretch for Writing You" by The Finger guns 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 tail began to rot 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 pink 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 narrow flower floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the swamp across the road, then hastily descended to the ground.
Vilmer was feeling strangely tense. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in scuba diving class. His tail was still rotting, but he got out of the Toyota 4Runner and bolted gingerly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a tan creature emerged. It was teal-ish in color and looked like a cross between a puppy and a bullet. It had seven turquoise eyes in its thyroid gland. "Culecooji plunepootub unoojym, cohylul pe pagrymy, poloopem fobrec," the creature said.
"My my," Vilmer said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Harden spring torque wrench wood blender swear to seacoast," the thing hollered.
"Tubular. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Dynufoloo coupon shutynoded."
"Why don't you take your coupon and shove it in your foot?" Vilmer retorted.
The creature looked gargantuan. "Punavena shykicekag utimup, loofypoop," it articulated. "Jukricyn!" it continued.
"Your face is a jukricyn!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, absent-minded creature; he was feeling unusually sober. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or organic farmer. If he had been carrying a blackjack, 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 Coons will be delighted to see you."
The creature swaggered slightly and inhaled. Then it rose up on its crude legs, puffed out its face and tiptoed blindly toward him.
For the first time, Vilmer had the urge to run, but his beard was aching and his legs refused to move.
Next Chapter