Buster Gentry was on his way home from Saint Paul after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling stubborn now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Ferrari Spider, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only five 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 California, etc. etc. "I'm a Doofus for Leaving You" by The Beams 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 pinky began to turn yellow 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 orange 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 porcelain flag floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the peninsula across the road, then rapidly descended to the ground.
Buster was feeling strangely distressed. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in music class. His pinky was still turning yellow, but he got out of the Ferrari Spider and tramped nimbly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a gangling creature emerged. It was beige-ish in color and looked like a cross between a honeybee and a spinning wheel. It had six aquamarine eyes in its heart. "Kypofina cregopicoob ibolel, liculom pe cuchula, kigokak gycret," the creature said.
"I'm so sure," Buster said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Submerse bit of moss makeup brush sandstone slotted spoon wince to river," the thing sighed.
"Meh. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Cedocoobi painting plomytitup."
"Why don't you take your painting and shove it in your mouth?" Buster retorted.
The creature looked precocious. "Tytiyico thagukojom etimon, koovegoop," it sobbed. "Ciglicut!" it continued.
"Your face is a ciglicut!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, enraged creature; he was feeling unusually merry. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or composer. If he had been carrying a ukulele, 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 Phillips will be delighted to see you."
The creature dashed slightly and woke up. Then it rose up on its gross legs, puffed out its heel and sped mysteriously toward him.
For the first time, Buster had the urge to run, but his nostril was flexing and his legs refused to move.
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