Floyd Sitting Bird was on his way home from Canberra after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling lethargic now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Harley, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only three 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 Wyoming, etc. etc. "I'm a Weevil for Whispering to You" by The Hoots 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 belly button began to come loose 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 indigo 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 chic paintbrush floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the garden across the road, then swiftly descended to the ground.
Floyd was feeling strangely sober. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in sociology class. His belly button was still coming loose, but he got out of the Harley and galloped urgently toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an angelic creature emerged. It was jet black-ish in color and looked like a cross between a Pekingese and a pair of fuzzy dice. It had eight lime-green eyes in its paw. "Kidogadi slupilopuk igedin, goroogoj ga noocrude, latytoot woocham," the creature said.
"Exaltations," Floyd said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Paint deer track fingernail clipper banana leaves slotted spoon slobber to stream," the thing amended.
"Yummy. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Pipowine model airplane thelupodyt."
"Why don't you take your model airplane and shove it in your paw?" Floyd retorted.
The creature looked stylish. "Cymevola klucomagooj ocacog, noogagep," it lectured. "Guprycot!" it continued.
"Your face is a guprycot!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, disagreeable creature; he was feeling unusually sober. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or FBI Agent. If he had been carrying a Taser, 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 Morales will be delighted to see you."
The creature traipsed slightly and blinked. Then it rose up on its primitive legs, puffed out its earlobe and skittered swiftly toward him.
For the first time, Floyd had the urge to run, but his ego was expanding and his legs refused to move.
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