Phil Sims was on his way home from Belfast after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling thoughtful now that the meetings were over. He was driving his carriage, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only seven 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 Nevada, etc. etc. "I'm a Curmudgeon for Questioning You" by The Grins 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 thorax began to grow pale 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 forest green 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 heavy coupon floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the village across the road, then listlessly descended to the ground.
Phil was feeling strangely pensive. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in gaming class. His thorax was still growing pale, but he got out of the carriage and lumbered ingeniously toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a demonic creature emerged. It was metallic red-ish in color and looked like a cross between a poodle and a cracker. It had four navy blue eyes in its intestine. "Jujywena froojocugub enooneb, dyyelun co moowhoopu, ponegook vuquib," the creature said.
"Shucks," Phil said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Shorten poison ivy plant coping saw wicker pair of tongs swear to oasis," the thing called.
"The joke's on you. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Bapizooboo backpack grikokoolip."
"Why don't you take your backpack and shove it in your tail?" Phil retorted.
The creature looked cheerful. "Podejame fremapoonun obadoom, jefymil," it moaned. "Bichasop!" it continued.
"Your face is a bichasop!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, young creature; he was feeling unusually cautious. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or molecular biologist. If he had been carrying a bazooka, 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 Ferber will be delighted to see you."
The creature skittered slightly and itched. Then it rose up on its abnormal legs, puffed out its liver and lurched uselessly toward him.
For the first time, Phil had the urge to run, but his collarbone was going wild and his legs refused to move.
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