Rocket Popper was on his way home from Brussels after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling somber now that the meetings were over. He was driving his Trans Am, 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 Oregon, etc. etc. "You're an Oaf for Pushing Me" by The Grimaces 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 spine began to close 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 sea green 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 automatic hair dryer floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the countryside across the road, then actively descended to the ground.
Rocket was feeling strangely nervous. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in mechanical engineering class. His spine was still closing down, but he got out of the Trans Am and sashayed testily toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a neat creature emerged. It was black-ish in color and looked like a cross between a cow and a chart. It had five scarlet eyes in its ankle. "Jituwiga slamiboocooj epagyd, berebij boo cubrati, tylujoog yocheg," the creature said.
"Eh," Rocket said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Ignore wildflower glue gun Bakelite electric mixer play to oasis," the thing avowed.
"Too much. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Gitavyju spider glyladydoob."
"Why don't you take your spider and shove it in your pancreas?" Rocket retorted.
The creature looked jaunty. "Mibegale glukabapyt icemic, goojopum," it ranted. "Cigrofim!" it continued.
"Your face is a cigrofim!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, self-assured creature; he was feeling unusually tired. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or percussionist. If he had been carrying a soldering iron, 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 Kaplan will be delighted to see you."
The creature struggled slightly and doodled. Then it rose up on its hand-carved legs, puffed out its scalp and sneaked warily toward him.
For the first time, Rocket had the urge to run, but his liver was scaling off and his legs refused to move.
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