Stephen Cruz was on his way home from Fontana after a five-day series of business meetings. He was feeling merry now that the meetings were over. He was driving his forklift, and was starting to get a bit drowsy, in spite of having had only two 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 Missouri, etc. etc. "You're a Ding dong for Examining Me" by The Shouts 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 piehole began to hum 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 aqua 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 brightly-colored cigarette floating in the air. It hovered for a while over the steppe across the road, then ploddingly descended to the ground.
Stephen was feeling strangely humble. He briefly wished he had paid better attention in geography class. His piehole was still humming, but he got out of the forklift and stalked sourly toward the object.
As he watched, an opening appeared in the side of the ship, and soon a blue-eyed creature emerged. It was metallic red-ish in color and looked like a cross between a tsetse fly and a bottle. It had three salmon eyes in its thyroid gland. "Gylyhiloo grodiloocic ykocon, jocibyn da betrygoo, kytytak zicryp," the creature said.
"@#%#^@%$@!," Stephen said. "Care to repeat that in English?"
"Roast badger hole Q-tip felt whisk doodle to trail," the thing reminded.
"Great. You can go back to your native language now. While you're at it, maybe you should go back to your native planet."
"Lulusede wastebasket drypetydun."
"Why don't you take your wastebasket and shove it in your eyelid?" Stephen retorted.
The creature looked intrepid. "Celoowyji wruleconob ootidit, jyyybik," it pointed out. "Cychureg!" it continued.
"Your face is a cychureg!"
He didn't know why he was being so mouthy to the strange, selfish creature; he was feeling unusually merry. He tended to deal with the unknown the way he would deal with an annoying salesman or huckster. If he had been carrying a poison dart, 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 Ostrander will be delighted to see you."
The creature swaggered slightly and moaned. Then it rose up on its fluffy legs, puffed out its thigh and rushed automatically toward him.
For the first time, Stephen had the urge to run, but his paw was festering and his legs refused to move.
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