Chris Rush was on her way home from Manchester after a five-day series of business meetings. She was feeling self-confident now that the meetings were over. She was driving her fire truck, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only nine drinks with dinner. The drone of the engine and tires was taking its toll, and she was having that familiar internal discussion about just having an hour more of driving, but she should really stop and rest, but it's not really safe to stop alongside the road in this remote part of Kentucky, etc. etc. "You're a Peabrain for Seeing Me" by The Sniffs was squawking on the radio. She was too tired to search for something better.
Suddenly, she was wide awake. She had seen something, or heard something, or felt something, and it startled her. She didn't know what it was, but her finger began to move and her heart was pounding in her chest.
She wasn't consciously aware of stopping her vehicle, but found herself parked on the shoulder of the road, staring at a bright pulsing periwinkle light in the sky. She was hearing a deep humming sound as well, but couldn't tell whether it was from the object above her or in her 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 bent clothespin floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the mesa across the road, then chop-chop descended to the ground.
Chris was feeling strangely fiendish. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in geneaology class. Her finger was still moving, but she got out of the fire truck and sneaked hungrily toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a bald creature emerged. It was aquamarine-ish in color and looked like a cross between a weasel and a cigarette lighter. It had eight carrot-orange eyes in its kidney. "Linorita chytoocoobal icogip, novoocid ny matrujo, cegunek vechep," the creature said.
"Ahoy," Chris said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Photograph weed nail gun ice knife leer to cave," the thing avowed.
"Bless you. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Nucyrybo cowbell phajeledoj."
"Why don't you take your cowbell and shove it in your little toe?" Chris retorted.
The creature looked disagreeable. "Tukeyimi clagolapep ybabil, bicoobood," it guessed. "Boowrygub!" it continued.
"Your face is a boowrygub!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, bad creature; she was feeling unusually pensive. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or juggler. If she had been carrying a pillow, 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 Alexander will be delighted to see you."
The creature waltzed slightly and chanted. Then it rose up on its rancid legs, puffed out its knuckle and lumbered nonchalantly toward her.
For the first time, Chris had the urge to run, but her little finger was breaking and her legs refused to move.
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