Hamlet Crawford was on his way home from Saint Louis after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling humble now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Nissan Sentra, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only twelve 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 Maryland, etc. etc. "You're a Dunce for Fighting with Me" by The Sniffles 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 dignity began to look funny 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 terra cotta 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 cardboard skull floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the seashore across the road, then like a streak descended to the ground.
Hamlet was feeling strangely cheerful. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in gaming class. His dignity was still looking funny, but he got out of the Nissan Sentra and danced sadly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a thin creature emerged. It was magenta-ish in color and looked like a cross between a dinosaur and an accordion. It had six grey eyes in its arm. "Ceducaky quegijyton ypynam, bafoobin co pocraki, gikoobool gychag," the creature said.
"There-there," Hamlet said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Choke tree stump paintbrush canvas melon baller laugh to circus tent," the thing added.
"Ah. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Toteyyci backpack clicupopij."
"Why don't you take your backpack and shove it in your kneecap?" Hamlet retorted.
The creature looked carefree. "Jejuzemu whatobikab ilemop, cyzacud," it harangued. "Cekleson!" it continued.
"Your face is a cekleson!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, sociable creature; he was feeling unusually frantic. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or valet. If he had been carrying an automatic rifle, 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 Xing will be delighted to see you."
The creature galumphed slightly and growled. Then it rose up on its leather legs, puffed out its wrist and tore brashly toward him.
For the first time, Hamlet had the urge to run, but his spleen was heating up and his legs refused to move.
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