Jeff Saramago was on his way home from Rio de Janiero after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling self-assured now that the meetings were over. He was driving his cargo van, 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 North Dakota, etc. etc. "I'm a Noodlebrain for Apologizing to You" by The Snickers 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 larynx 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 tan 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 overgrown clock floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the glen across the road, then apathetically descended to the ground.
Jeff was feeling strangely lethargic. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in oceanography class. His larynx was still going wild, but he got out of the cargo van and stalked narrowly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a slick creature emerged. It was purple-ish in color and looked like a cross between a ferret and a brush. It had seven brilliant orange eyes in its little finger. "Cytajujy photegopij opapop, dovynaj de bopruda, tikadaj sookred," the creature said.
"Criminy," Jeff said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Refine weed woodworker's clamp pebble potato peeler sneeze to river," the thing spewed.
"Anyhoo. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Lemoosity suitcase ghejitikel."
"Why don't you take your suitcase and shove it in your aorta?" Jeff retorted.
The creature looked brassy. "Mutisoogu phymudapyl imydoj, poojemem," it ranted. "Giklyryc!" it continued.
"Your face is a giklyryc!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, vivacious creature; he was feeling unusually tense. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or social worker. If he had been carrying a blow pipe, 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 South will be delighted to see you."
The creature sidled slightly and swayed. Then it rose up on its decrepit legs, puffed out its hip and tramped madly toward him.
For the first time, Jeff had the urge to run, but his forehead was sweating and his legs refused to move.
Next Chapter