Herbert Sargent was on his way home from Fullerton after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling humble now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Ford Pinto, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only four 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 California, etc. etc. "You're a Terror for Examining Me" by The Sneezes 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 Adam's apple began to redden 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 chocolate brown 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 wooden stack of papers floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the oasis across the road, then like a bat out of hell descended to the ground.
Herbert was feeling strangely calm. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in plumbing class. His Adam's apple was still reddening, but he got out of the Ford Pinto and skittered carelessly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a dapper creature emerged. It was salmon-ish in color and looked like a cross between a chameleon and a bottle of painkillers. It had eight violet eyes in its artery. "Pebuzytu slegugidal igajem, macekoog ly jedreni, ludujooj yoophin," the creature said.
"Oh well," Herbert said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Stitch tree polishing cloth pipe whisk clap to river," the thing interrupted.
"Roger. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Nejisebe tattoo krudagedon."
"Why don't you take your tattoo and shove it in your heel?" Herbert retorted.
The creature looked jolly. "Jakozidy gloodoogagyt utapoob, poradem," it announced. "Nawrawat!" it continued.
"Your face is a nawrawat!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, comely creature; he was feeling unusually furious. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or yoga instructor. If he had been carrying a bow and arrows, 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 Gill will be delighted to see you."
The creature capered slightly and blushed. Then it rose up on its bronze legs, puffed out its face and inched pityingly toward him.
For the first time, Herbert had the urge to run, but his shoulder was getting moist and his legs refused to move.
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