Octavius Jacobsen was on his way home from Elk Grove after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling brave now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Model T, 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 Arkansas, etc. etc. "You're a Screwball for Exposing Me" by The Honks 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 shin began to hang down 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 scarlet 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 smelly blanket floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the pond across the road, then heavily descended to the ground.
Octavius was feeling strangely funny. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in photography class. His shin was still hanging down, but he got out of the Model T and marched dubiously toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon an unkempt creature emerged. It was emerald green-ish in color and looked like a cross between a poodle and a cowbell. It had eight terra cotta eyes in its beard. "Buniweni brulijaput ybobuc, kijegud ny goshooke, gocetob zewrug," the creature said.
"Well I'll be," Octavius said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Heat weed chisel tar cookie cutter look smart to swamp," the thing swore.
"Maybe. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Gegireje can of beans brycaludab."
"Why don't you take your can of beans and shove it in your toenail?" Octavius retorted.
The creature looked jaunty. "Jykooziny crycuketid ejamoon, dooroton," it hinted. "Cechajuc!" it continued.
"Your face is a cechajuc!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, childish creature; he was feeling unusually awkward. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or dog trainer. If he had been carrying a shoulder fired rocket, 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 Smith will be delighted to see you."
The creature sauntered slightly and shook. Then it rose up on its primitive legs, puffed out its thyroid gland and lumbered sadly toward him.
For the first time, Octavius had the urge to run, but his forehead was blossoming and his legs refused to move.
Next Chapter