Martin Allen was on his way home from Las Vegas after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling resolute now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Kia Rio, 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 Illinois, etc. etc. "You're a Gossip for Tormenting Me" by The Crows 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 shin began to turn red 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 sparkly 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 frilly hat floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the plain across the road, then double-time descended to the ground.
Martin was feeling strangely sarcastic. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in traditional medicine class. His shin was still turning red, but he got out of the Kia Rio and sallied forth cleverly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a delicate creature emerged. It was emerald green-ish in color and looked like a cross between a muskrat and a rock. It had three magenta eyes in its chin. "Latoosooli troodocidad ocicot, cucetad poo japlepi, doojoton hygryk," the creature said.
"Wahoo," Martin said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Reposition mulberry tree tape measure glass turkey baster take a bath to backyard," the thing burbled.
"Holy cow. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Loobowyna magazine sludacajuk."
"Why don't you take your magazine and shove it in your knee?" Martin retorted.
The creature looked relaxed. "Jityjoka glotatucal oodyten, poojatip," it begged. "Cykloovyc!" it continued.
"Your face is a cykloovyc!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, pensive creature; he was feeling unusually desperate. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or Theremin player. If he had been carrying an automatic 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 Sattler will be delighted to see you."
The creature slithered slightly and blushed. Then it rose up on its sleek legs, puffed out its thigh and trekked openly toward him.
For the first time, Martin had the urge to run, but his hangnail was getting scaly and his legs refused to move.
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