Donald Edwards was on his way home from Fremont after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling nervous now that the meetings were over. He was driving his GTO, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only nine 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 Virginia, etc. etc. "You're a Shyster for Punishing Me" by The Death glares 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 esophagus began to mold 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 yellow 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 sophisticated fire hose floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the plateau across the road, then indolently descended to the ground.
Donald was feeling strangely puzzled. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in interior design class. His esophagus was still molding, but he got out of the GTO and sneaked ingeniously toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a smallish creature emerged. It was indigo-ish in color and looked like a cross between a tsetse fly and a crystal ball. It had five grey eyes in its foot. "Lygafeky drupeticuj amoodim, cowybib loo kegroodu, bajulec vofroop," the creature said.
"Beats me," Donald said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Empty mulberry tree shovel old newspaper meat tenderizer vomit to badlands area," the thing voiced.
"Gadzooks. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Dejyyoky flute plyminyjip."
"Why don't you take your flute and shove it in your front tooth?" Donald retorted.
The creature looked urbane. "Dyjejoty crijanelyd ootupoon, byfetyj," it called. "Jipliyec!" it continued.
"Your face is a jipliyec!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, wicked creature; he was feeling unusually tired. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or programmer. If he had been carrying a hatchet, 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 Byers will be delighted to see you."
The creature rushed slightly and chanted. Then it rose up on its amazing legs, puffed out its hair and walked pityingly toward him.
For the first time, Donald had the urge to run, but his gut was going numb and his legs refused to move.
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