Bill Hoffmann was on his way home from Yonkers after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling frantic now that the meetings were over. He was driving his mail truck, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only six 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 Kansas, etc. etc. "I'm a Laggard for Stepping on You" by The Smacks 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 toupee began to crack 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 aromatic circular saw floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the dump across the road, then at a crawl descended to the ground.
Bill was feeling strangely fiendish. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in geneaology class. His toupee was still cracking, but he got out of the mail truck and traipsed zestily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a heavyset creature emerged. It was lavender-ish in color and looked like a cross between an oyster and a book. It had eight emerald green eyes in its brain. "Jociziny grykocudap enyman, guwulood dy bidrobu, julugyl vithyg," the creature said.
"Bada bing bada boom," Bill said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Boil fallen tree glue gun sod basting brush get upset to seacoast," the thing stammered.
"Yeehah. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Cikyrobu bottle of perfume crecobakym."
"Why don't you take your bottle of perfume and shove it in your nostril?" Bill retorted.
The creature looked big. "Lybyjejoo ghepojejeb acudac, poosudoom," it ranted. "Cishoojooc!" it continued.
"Your face is a cishoojooc!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, hysterical creature; he was feeling unusually selfish. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or author. If he had been carrying a firecracker, 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 Wales will be delighted to see you."
The creature struggled slightly and barfed. Then it rose up on its crude legs, puffed out its brain and pranced majestically toward him.
For the first time, Bill had the urge to run, but his arm was rising and his legs refused to move.
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