Max Page was on his way home from Memphis after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling drowsy now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Model T, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only twelve 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 Louisiana, etc. etc. "You're a Traitor for Tripping Me" by The Coos 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 flare 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 orange 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 immense suitcase floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the country meadow across the road, then indolently descended to the ground.
Max was feeling strangely maniacal. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in scuba diving class. His collarbone was still flaring up, but he got out of the Model T and hobbled violently toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a cadaverous creature emerged. It was jet black-ish in color and looked like a cross between a grizzly bear and a Helmholz resonator. It had three sparkly eyes in its abdomen. "Pojyfogu sloolylemud ymybej, befedyk ca doograly, lajyjuj cuquuj," the creature said.
"Ow," Max said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Bathe spider web razor blade spandex meat thermometer beg to wasteland," the thing concluded.
"Malarkey. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Gykyhedoo washrag ghyjydimooj."
"Why don't you take your washrag and shove it in your big toe?" Max retorted.
The creature looked hirsute. "Lelojeke drunopomul oolical, mooroomoot," it winked. "Pysheyoob!" it continued.
"Your face is a pysheyoob!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, cute creature; he was feeling unusually brash. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or street sweeper. If he had been carrying a rubber band, 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 Conrad will be delighted to see you."
The creature slithered slightly and freaked out. Then it rose up on its bulky legs, puffed out its spine and rushed noisily toward him.
For the first time, Max had the urge to run, but his pinky was getting tired and his legs refused to move.
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