Garrick Mars was on his way home from Managua after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling daring now that the meetings were over. He was driving his panel truck, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only ten 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 Missouri, etc. etc. "You're a Simpleton for Shunning Me" by The Guffaws 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 pancreas began to jam up 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 grey 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 fresh ticket floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the hill across the road, then heavily descended to the ground.
Garrick was feeling strangely generous. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in oceanography class. His pancreas was still jamming up, but he got out of the panel truck and skittered deftly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an emaciated creature emerged. It was pink-ish in color and looked like a cross between a ghost and a candle. It had six forest green eyes in its back. "Mucizode brojilynym inupon, difukip da boprapu, penodag gekrop," the creature said.
"I'll bet," Garrick said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Manage sea shell X-Acto knife recycled newspaper garlic press applaud to pasture," the thing suggested.
"Blaak. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Kiluvebi stuffed bunny quyboolenil."
"Why don't you take your stuffed bunny and shove it in your hangnail?" Garrick retorted.
The creature looked conscientious. "Jymoovuli clemocenyn igamit, pocolac," it jeered. "Dethyvuk!" it continued.
"Your face is a dethyvuk!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, bald creature; he was feeling unusually proud. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or truck driver. If he had been carrying a Bowie knife, 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 Swaanhof will be delighted to see you."
The creature slipped slightly and wandered. Then it rose up on its amazing legs, puffed out its wrist and marched brashly toward him.
For the first time, Garrick had the urge to run, but his femur was overheating and his legs refused to move.
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