Sydmo Zilch was on her way home from San Angelo after a three-day series of business meetings. She was feeling hysterical now that the meetings were over. She was driving her Chevy Caprice, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only three drinks with dinner. The drone of the engine and tires was taking its toll, and she was having that familiar internal discussion about just having an hour more of driving, but she should really stop and rest, but it's not really safe to stop alongside the road in this remote part of Nebraska, etc. etc. "I'm a Tramp for Grilling You" by The Flushes was squawking on the radio. She was too tired to search for something better.
Suddenly, she was wide awake. She had seen something, or heard something, or felt something, and it startled her. She didn't know what it was, but her claw began to itch and her heart was pounding in her chest.
She wasn't consciously aware of stopping her vehicle, but found herself parked on the shoulder of the road, staring at a bright pulsing brown light in the sky. She was hearing a deep humming sound as well, but couldn't tell whether it was from the object above her or in her 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 queer campaign sign floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the wasteland across the road, then gradually descended to the ground.
Sydmo was feeling strangely resolute. She briefly wished she had paid better attention in geography class. Her claw was still itching, but she got out of the Chevy Caprice and jogged oddly toward the object.
As she watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a nervous creature emerged. It was turquoise-ish in color and looked like a cross between a dingo and a flash drive. It had six indigo eyes in its Adam's apple. "Dolurydu trilokogat okugyd, garytyb de poogrula, jicopool yupleb," the creature said.
"Harrumph," Sydmo said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Cover deer track jack recycled newspaper cheesecloth knit to canyon," the thing imitated.
"Sure. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Megyjuno flyswatter quidyleguc."
"Why don't you take your flyswatter and shove it in your gall bladder?" Sydmo retorted.
The creature looked blubbery. "Pejazojoo slecookimag ulocib, byvykic," it swore. "Booplefik!" it continued.
"Your face is a booplefik!"
She didn't know why she was being so mouthy to the strange, spindly creature; she was feeling unusually affable. She tended to deal with the unknown the way she would deal with an annoying salesman or painter. If she had been carrying a Bowie knife, 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 Zing will be delighted to see you."
The creature pranced slightly and whistled. Then it rose up on its nifty legs, puffed out its pinky and skittered uneasily toward her.
For the first time, Sydmo had the urge to run, but her tongue was aggravating and her legs refused to move.
Next Chapter