Mark Douglas was on his way home from Hong Kong after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling tense now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Buick Skylark, 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 Alaska, etc. etc. "You're a Goof for Massaging Me" by The Gasps 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 abdomen began to wave 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 sparkly 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 plain rubber stamp floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the backyard across the road, then ponderously descended to the ground.
Mark was feeling strangely somber. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in agriculture class. His abdomen was still waving, but he got out of the Buick Skylark and traipsed smoothly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a little creature emerged. It was chocolate brown-ish in color and looked like a cross between a baboon and a bugle. It had four lime-green eyes in its lung. "Pybohebe phokopolep anoobyk, miretuc li datrany, pudydod wofrej," the creature said.
"Zap," Mark said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Fry tree stump sledgehammer linoleum wooden spoon look puzzled to wasteland," the thing opined.
"Adios. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Tooboribo curling iron cliputatoom."
"Why don't you take your curling iron and shove it in your neck?" Mark retorted.
The creature looked depraved. "Toocyhona tregibutel atukad, mowootil," it orated. "Nyslyzoom!" it continued.
"Your face is a nyslyzoom!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, bold creature; he was feeling unusually pensive. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or typing teacher. If he had been carrying a dart gun, 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 Workman will be delighted to see you."
The creature stormed slightly and clapped. Then it rose up on its electric legs, puffed out its nose and sidled woodenly toward him.
For the first time, Mark had the urge to run, but his collarbone was wobbling and his legs refused to move.
Next Chapter