Damon Griffin was on his way home from Wichita after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling sober now that the meetings were over. He was driving his rocket pack, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only seven 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 Mississippi, etc. etc. "You're an Imposter for Snuggling with Me" by The Simpers 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 face began to turn yellow 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 pea green 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 well worn calculator floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the dumpster across the road, then like crazy descended to the ground.
Damon was feeling strangely sassy. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in engineering class. His face was still turning yellow, but he got out of the rocket pack and swaggered ignobly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a handsome creature emerged. It was hot pink-ish in color and looked like a cross between a Siamese cat and a pair of knitting needles. It had six amber eyes in its eyeball. "Ginuzodoo drolotoomym oocoobuj, kyfoonap coo lygheli, toomyguj wabreb," the creature said.
"Rooster feathers," Damon said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Plasticize dead tree torque wrench chocolate piece of cheesecloth pace to glen," the thing gasped.
"Quiet. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Molooseju cane dronootucem."
"Why don't you take your cane and shove it in your eye?" Damon retorted.
The creature looked frumpy. "Jogegyki frenajacyb okamac, geyypooj," it questioned. "Jecherud!" it continued.
"Your face is a jecherud!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, noxious creature; he was feeling unusually hysterical. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or crutch salesman. If he had been carrying a vial of poison, 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 Whitlock will be delighted to see you."
The creature proceeded slightly and coughed. Then it rose up on its porcelain legs, puffed out its artery and paraded pityingly toward him.
For the first time, Damon had the urge to run, but his bladder was throbbing and his legs refused to move.
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