Socks Truong was on his way home from Belfast after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling selfish now that the meetings were over. He was driving his flatbed truck, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eleven 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 Tennessee, etc. etc. "I'm a Thug for Chatting with You" by The Raspberries 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 collarbone began to smoke 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 azure 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 waxy fishhook floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the gully across the road, then double-time descended to the ground.
Socks was feeling strangely muddled. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in aeronautics class. His collarbone was still smoking, but he got out of the flatbed truck and reeled unnaturally toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a white creature emerged. It was burgundy-ish in color and looked like a cross between a cougar and a pen. It had three silver eyes in its heart. "Limajeba tramadydyp emoodip, pusykan ma luslidoo, dymycem gagheg," the creature said.
"Zounds," Socks said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Shave tree coping saw thatch foot murmur to plateau," the thing rumored.
"Not so fast. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Kujoozoojoo skull drubookoobac."
"Why don't you take your skull and shove it in your ego?" Socks retorted.
The creature looked monstrous. "Joligeby clugibakap oodotuc, mofetat," it questioned. "Mislawyp!" it continued.
"Your face is a mislawyp!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, princely creature; he was feeling unusually woozy. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or marketing manager. If he had been carrying a bazooka, 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 Ecklund will be delighted to see you."
The creature leapt slightly and huffed. Then it rose up on its art deco legs, puffed out its hand and stalked mysteriously toward him.
For the first time, Socks had the urge to run, but his rib was kinking and his legs refused to move.
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