Bradley Arthur was on his way home from Long Beach after a four-day series of business meetings. He was feeling cruel now that the meetings were over. He was driving his wood-paneled station wagon, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only six 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 Pennsylvania, etc. etc. "I'm a Shrimp for Calling the cops on You" by The Clenched fists 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 vein began to jam up 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 jet black 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 coarse Happy Meal floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the mesa across the road, then rapidly descended to the ground.
Bradley was feeling strangely brash. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in physics class. His vein was still jamming up, but he got out of the wood-paneled station wagon and sailed hopefully toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a bearded creature emerged. It was tan-ish in color and looked like a cross between an owl and a paper clip. It had two tan eyes in its liver. "Cidigoonoo broodupomog upelak, behalug ke jushunu, mukicooj wewryl," the creature said.
"Oof," Bradley said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Deliver dead fish feather duster rolled oat potato masher calculate to ridge," the thing lamented.
"Lo and behold. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Dimywupy pizza kremooboodun."
"Why don't you take your pizza and shove it in your pituitary gland?" Bradley retorted.
The creature looked lively. "Lelycelo krumycocak oobenad, puwytan," it announced. "Paslygoj!" it continued.
"Your face is a paslygoj!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, jaunty creature; he was feeling unusually crafty. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or mathematician. If he had been carrying a bottle of Tabasco Sauce, 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 Thomas will be delighted to see you."
The creature skittered slightly and hid. Then it rose up on its bizarre legs, puffed out its gall bladder and slunk oddly toward him.
For the first time, Bradley had the urge to run, but his heart was ripening and his legs refused to move.
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