The oblong little spacecraft overtook the truck on the road and landed gently in front of it, scarcely disturbing the gravel. The driver of the truck, a Blazer from the previous decade, slowed and stopped and stared.
A hatch opened on the side of the spaceship and an extraterrestrial, all four-foot-five of him, stepped down to the ground, his iridescent green scales shining in the afternoon sun. He approached the truck’s driver, a stocky man wearing a brand-new seed cap.
“Good soil to you,” the alien said. He held a small, round device from which the English words flowed; nothing about his mouth seemed capable of producing those sounds.
“And next up for Open Mic Night at Barney’s Cantina is … whoa! I have no idea how to pronounce this person’s name. Just give a big hand to whoever this is and maybe she’ll tell you.”
A light shower of applause greeted the young woman as she took the small stage in the bar and grill. A couple of men whistled at her and she looked in their direction and smiled.
She was about 5 foot 5 with long, wavy blonde hair and a perfect hourglass figure. The top three buttons on her blouse were unbuttoned and she seemed to enjoy leaning forward just a bit. Her skirt was short enough to attract equal attention.
“Good evening, Barney’s!” she called, and was rewarded with cheers and more whistles. “My name is Mwffu Tywnx, but you can call me Muffy if it’s easier. Not like we’re going to get to know each other real well anyway … as my people are going to conquer the Earth tomorrow and enslave every last one of you.”