Wes Brazil was on his way home from Quito after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling nervous 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 seven 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 Vermont, etc. etc. "I'm a Numskull for Apologizing to You" by The Tears 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 thorax began to smell bad 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 ivory 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 autographed key floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the countryside across the road, then ploddingly descended to the ground.
Wes was feeling strangely distressed. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in German history class. His thorax was still smelling bad, but he got out of the panel truck and galumphed cautiously toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a curvy creature emerged. It was magenta-ish in color and looked like a cross between a dingo and a diamond. It had six forest green eyes in its buttocks. "Jemacito fretileboog omyjoom, loovycyb cu padrice, kemipun yuplet," the creature said.
"Oh dear," Wes said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Sand stick trowel root blender sit still to pond," the thing vowed.
"Judas Priest. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Jigeroolu pumpkin whipijoojik."
"Why don't you take your pumpkin and shove it in your antenna?" Wes retorted.
The creature looked depraved. "Bytoofymo slulidobid ybukaj, dijaket," it sneered. "Peghooyeg!" it continued.
"Your face is a peghooyeg!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, cunning creature; he was feeling unusually distressed. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or telemarketer. If he had been carrying a charm, 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 Ferber will be delighted to see you."
The creature rushed slightly and swooned. Then it rose up on its stolen legs, puffed out its gut and capered wildly toward him.
For the first time, Wes had the urge to run, but his eyeball was looking funny and his legs refused to move.
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