Jackson Ramirez was on his way home from Bangkok after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling peculiar now that the meetings were over. He was driving his handcart, 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. "You're a Dullard for Singing to Me" by The Finger guns 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 adrenal gland began to perspire 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 terra cotta 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 bulky paperclip floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the lagoon across the road, then ploddingly descended to the ground.
Jackson was feeling strangely pensive. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in English class. His adrenal gland was still perspiring, but he got out of the handcart and scooted tenderly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a blue-eyed creature emerged. It was polka dotted-ish in color and looked like a cross between a tsetse fly and a fish. It had eight lime-green eyes in its appendix. "Cukefoomi chynanipac amalook, noojalyt mo jooklipe, beledep faglyl," the creature said.
"What in tarnation," Jackson said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Curl fern powder puff wicker cheesecloth twitch to veld," the thing nattered.
"Jeepers. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Boocizuky bouquet drotajelan."
"Why don't you take your bouquet and shove it in your eye?" Jackson retorted.
The creature looked direct. "Gegazoloo trunicoobeb yducig, nawekoog," it mused. "Laflooryc!" it continued.
"Your face is a laflooryc!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, perky creature; he was feeling unusually furious. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or bricklayer. If he had been carrying a shoulder fired rocket, 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 Bentzinger will be delighted to see you."
The creature walked slightly and digested. Then it rose up on its nifty legs, puffed out its hoof and stalked madly toward him.
For the first time, Jackson had the urge to run, but his adrenal gland was enlarging and his legs refused to move.
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