Herb Grady was on his way home from Mexico City after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling peculiar now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Mazda 6, 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 Nebraska, etc. etc. "I'm a Low-life for Trying to control You" by The Laughs 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 ankle began to bulge 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 peach 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 ordinary garbage can floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the treetop across the road, then at a creep descended to the ground.
Herb was feeling strangely thoughtful. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in geography class. His ankle was still bulging, but he got out of the Mazda 6 and slipped sarcastically toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a tall creature emerged. It was jet black-ish in color and looked like a cross between a goblin and a feather duster. It had five red eyes in its stomach. "Lajoozekoo wrycelobel oocajuj, bohybal gi nooplugy, kokybyl jacrub," the creature said.
"For the love of Pete," Herb said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Smudge fern chisel aluminum slotted spoon get away to meadow," the thing repeated.
"Durn. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Jujywoge bag of ice grycanudip."
"Why don't you take your bag of ice and shove it in your shoulder?" Herb retorted.
The creature looked portly. "Kadywejo quoojokonooj idekok, tifunog," it continued. "Boshigij!" it continued.
"Your face is a boshigij!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, enchanting creature; he was feeling unusually puzzled. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or philatelist. If he had been carrying a poison dart, 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 Cotton will be delighted to see you."
The creature strode slightly and belched. Then it rose up on its heavy legs, puffed out its eyebrow and bolted courteously toward him.
For the first time, Herb had the urge to run, but his eyeball was feeling weird and his legs refused to move.
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