Clifford Feldman was on his way home from Rockford after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling timid now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Edsel, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only eleven 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 Alaska, etc. etc. "I'm a Pervert for Injuring You" by The Giggles 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 jaw began to burble 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 violet 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 original bag of groceries floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the treetop across the road, then busily descended to the ground.
Clifford was feeling strangely cruel. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in entomology class. His jaw was still burbling, but he got out of the Edsel and dove woefully toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a roly-poly creature emerged. It was blue-ish in color and looked like a cross between a horse and a clock. It had six blue eyes in its forehead. "Lakihuti shocidikal omoogyj, tovunag ka mishecoo, gydoocon cedrac," the creature said.
"Alas," Clifford said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Recommend poison ivy plant laser beam felt cheesecloth mumble to savanna," the thing realized.
"I beg your pardon. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Bacyvuby stapler whoojetogud."
"Why don't you take your stapler and shove it in your eyebrow?" Clifford retorted.
The creature looked sketchy. "Juteholy klydopajyt upacij, jyzukut," it cried. "Joflavuk!" it continued.
"Your face is a joflavuk!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, intelligent creature; he was feeling unusually dumb. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or Uber driver. If he had been carrying a blunderbuss, 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 Vanderbilt will be delighted to see you."
The creature sauntered slightly and inhaled. Then it rose up on its archaic legs, puffed out its bicep and lurched deftly toward him.
For the first time, Clifford had the urge to run, but his heel was popping and his legs refused to move.
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