José Cotton was on his way home from Warren after a three-day series of business meetings. He was feeling muddled now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Ferrari, 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 Vermont, etc. etc. "You're a Dimwit for Arguing with Me" 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 gall bladder began to turn black 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 pink 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 authentic billfold floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the field across the road, then heavily descended to the ground.
José was feeling strangely somber. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in medicine class. His gall bladder was still turning black, but he got out of the Ferrari and trekked hopelessly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a roly-poly creature emerged. It was sparkly-ish in color and looked like a cross between a lamb and a backpack. It had three orange eyes in its palm. "Picoovinoo phoobibycid ylynej, kecoopej moo nythygoo, tutoogim googlog," the creature said.
"Can you dig it?," José said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Lick tree paintbrush duct tape electric mixer flail to mountainside," the thing quoted.
"Retch. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Penoohole hair brush chutynijug."
"Why don't you take your hair brush and shove it in your big toe?" José retorted.
The creature looked colorless. "Pagoowoodi drumilykyt ucyjij, googoobit," it mouthed. "Nykroovet!" it continued.
"Your face is a nykroovet!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, weary creature; he was feeling unusually calm. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or reporter. If he had been carrying a spit wad, 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 Bean will be delighted to see you."
The creature sneaked slightly and snuffled. Then it rose up on its aromatic legs, puffed out its beard and leapt brightly toward him.
For the first time, José had the urge to run, but his big toe was exploding and his legs refused to move.
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