Gilmo Windle was on his way home from Panama City after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling stubborn now that the meetings were over. He was driving his wood-paneled station wagon, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only two 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 Louisiana, etc. etc. "I'm a Mangy rascal for Cozying up to You" by The Shrugs 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 carotid artery began to go wild 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 peach 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 waxy whoopee cushion floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the briar patch across the road, then imperceptibly descended to the ground.
Gilmo was feeling strangely crafty. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in gaming class. His carotid artery was still going wild, but he got out of the wood-paneled station wagon and galumphed elatedly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a dapper creature emerged. It was ivory-ish in color and looked like a cross between an android and an ingot of plutonium. It had eight silver eyes in its chin. "Gytiyyma whoodynadyl yjojoob, garipun joo poglibu, kajitep waquot," the creature said.
"Kazow," Gilmo said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Strip cactus broadaxe cast iron cheesecloth sneeze to creek," the thing disputed.
"Alrighty-roo. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Dedoofuke cracker quakonudym."
"Why don't you take your cracker and shove it in your adrenal gland?" Gilmo retorted.
The creature looked lethargic. "Bedoohooku sledoopucog ocekoj, bycajag," it panted. "Tequicoc!" it continued.
"Your face is a tequicoc!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, weird creature; he was feeling unusually cantankerous. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or quarantine inspector. If he had been carrying a handful of dirt, 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 Frank will be delighted to see you."
The creature hopped slightly and primped. Then it rose up on its smooth legs, puffed out its thorax and slumped confidently toward him.
For the first time, Gilmo had the urge to run, but his kneecap was dancing and his legs refused to move.
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