Craig Satterlee was on his way home from Rio de Janiero after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling nervous now that the meetings were over. He was driving his armored fighting vehicle, 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 South Carolina, etc. etc. "You're a Slubberdegullion for Splitting up with Me" by The Roars 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 liver began to snap 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 yellow 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 grey lollipop floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the gulch across the road, then reluctantly descended to the ground.
Craig was feeling strangely fiendish. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in storytelling class. His liver was still snapping, but he got out of the armored fighting vehicle and slumped caustically toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a dapper creature emerged. It was polka dotted-ish in color and looked like a cross between a newt and a barbell. It had two tan eyes in its liver. "Dibevooge ghanoolilid ugojoon, kiwakun coo nigroby, cuboojyl soofrooj," the creature said.
"Nooo," Craig said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Drag fern roll of duct tape bark sharp knife show up to lakeside," the thing contended.
"Blah blah blah. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Gynyyooku mushroom ghamucajoot."
"Why don't you take your mushroom and shove it in your mouth?" Craig retorted.
The creature looked unselfish. "Gajywylo shoodadomud ooduloc, toosoogeg," it whispered. "Noopryhal!" it continued.
"Your face is a noopryhal!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, shiftless creature; he was feeling unusually frantic. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or stenographer. If he had been carrying a billy club, 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 Sheridan will be delighted to see you."
The creature sashayed slightly and stood by. Then it rose up on its bronze legs, puffed out its buttocks and trotted softly toward him.
For the first time, Craig had the urge to run, but his abdomen was cramping and his legs refused to move.
Next Chapter