Jimmy Wykes was on his way home from Grand Rapids after a two-day series of business meetings. He was feeling stubborn now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Firebird, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only four 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 Illinois, etc. etc. "I'm a Scalawag for Excluding You" by The Flinchs 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 scalp began to ooze 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 aquamarine 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 brightly-colored hand puppet floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the island across the road, then passively descended to the ground.
Jimmy was feeling strangely impish. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in penmanship class. His scalp was still oozing, but he got out of the Firebird and sallied forth boldly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a scruffy creature emerged. It was indigo-ish in color and looked like a cross between a boar and a can of shaving cream. It had five burgundy eyes in its tummy. "Dimyyyka cloocoobooceb ymoopid, mivumym ky nibrobi, pijucyt rooglot," the creature said.
"Bless you," Jimmy said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Squash bit of moss jack old tire strainer wink to prairie," the thing contended.
"Dadgum. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Gynyjiba padlock quulyjoolip."
"Why don't you take your padlock and shove it in your shoulder?" Jimmy retorted.
The creature looked intrepid. "Nedovecy fromebicib olimeg, gocugood," it groaned. "Gigrigyn!" it continued.
"Your face is a gigrigyn!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, rugged creature; he was feeling unusually thoughtful. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or archeologist. If he had been carrying a rattlesnake, 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 Orwell will be delighted to see you."
The creature capered slightly and got dizzy. Then it rose up on its crude legs, puffed out its little toe and slumped oddly toward him.
For the first time, Jimmy had the urge to run, but his skull was freaking out and his legs refused to move.
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