Wilma Soto was on her way home from Trenton after a two-day series of business meetings. She was feeling fearful now that the meetings were over. She was driving her Mercedes, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only twelve 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 New York, etc. etc. "I'm an ironing board for Singing to You" by The Honks 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 tail began to get soft 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 jet black 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 worn doll floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the country meadow across the road, then fleetly descended to the ground.
Wilma was feeling strangely impish. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in civics class. Her tail was still getting soft, but she got out of the Mercedes and flounced pitifully toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a handsome creature emerged. It was olive drab-ish in color and looked like a cross between a lion and an elephant tusk. It had three periwinkle eyes in its abdomen. "Kiperaji shyjybecej ytymod, bovemit jo noslooca, begetij hugleb," the creature said.
"Buzzards," Wilma said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Demolish spring router silver chopstick lounge to rainforest," the thing cried.
"Ay yi yi. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Jegysubo magazine glanigoojom."
"Why don't you take your magazine and shove it in your face?" Wilma retorted.
The creature looked fearful. "Jooduyopo flologujot amypac, kacotyl," it emphasized. "Mochuhob!" it continued.
"Your face is a mochuhob!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, homely creature; she was feeling unusually generous. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or beekeeper. If she had been carrying a set of nunchucks, 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 Agnew will be delighted to see you."
The creature sauntered slightly and calmed down. Then it rose up on its queer legs, puffed out its toe and skipped hopefully toward her.
For the first time, Wilma had the urge to run, but her eyebrow was moving and her legs refused to move.
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