Crouched in his darkened corn field, Benjamin glanced furtively about, hoping to catch the kids who had been vandalizing his barn every night for the last week. Abruptly, the wind picked up, whipping the cornstalks back and forth in chaotic oscillations. A sound like a thousand air conditioners whirred around him as a colossal spotlight pierced the sky, shining down on him from a massive metallic saucer that hung motionless in the night sky. The beam of light exerted a preternatural force upon him, lifting him away from the Earth like a helium balloon released by a careless child.

The light flared, blinding him momentarily, before winking out. When his vision returned, Benjamin found himself in the dimly lit interior of the ship. Patches of colored light moved in circular patterns around the wall, and a strange fog swirled and roiled about Benjamin's ankles. The net effect was that the ship's interior vaguely resembled a dance club.

A hatchway opened in the wall closest to Benjamin, and revealing the silhouette of three tall, lean figures entering the room.

The figures approached Benjamin, their green flesh gleaming ominously, a pair of razor-sharp lobster-like claws dangling at their sides. Each alien had a solitary feather protruding from its head.

Benjamin backed away anxiously. Of course, since he was on an alien ship, there wasn't anywhere for him to run, but when push comes to shove, most people being approached by aliens would back away regardless of the circumstances.

The aliens hesitated. "He's moving," observed the alien on the right, nervously rubbing his bristly lobster claw along his smooth, glossy chin.

"He's not supposed to move," complained the alien on the left, folding his arms over his chest, as if to comfort himself with a hug.

"They didn't move in the instructional video," continued the alien on the right. "They would just lie on the table, all glassy-eyed."

"Yes, Malsin, I know," grumbled the center alien. "So place him on the table."

"But Glaxor, in the video—"

"Screw the video," ordered Glaxor, clearly the leader. "Just put him on the table. We shall proceed according to the written instructions instead."

"Er…" began the left alien. "Which instructions?" He began shuffling through a satchel at his side and produced a series of pamphlets, several of which slipped from his grasp and tumbled to the ground.

"Any of them," growled Glaxor.

"But—" began the alien on the left.

"Enough, Krento! Malsin, put him on the table. That's an order."

Malsin, the alien on the right, shuffled despondently toward Benjamin. He slowed as he drew near, his greenish skin fading into a pale yellow.

Benjamin shuffled away from the alien. "Stay back!" he warned.

Malsin hesitated. "Did you guys hear that?"

"We heard nothing!" shouted Glaxor, his flesh erupting into a hot red color.

"It sounded like he said 'Stay back,'" insisted Malsin, whose skin became a slightly brighter yellow in response to Glaxor's outburst.

"That's preposterous," stated Glaxor. "Humans can't speak."

"It's true," agreed Krento. "They didn't speak in the video."

"Then we're in agreement. Now grab the human, Malsin."

Malsin frowned, puzzled by his evident agreement, and took another tentative step toward Benjamin, who again stepped back.

"I mean it," threatened Benjamin. "Don't come any closer."

Malsin stopped and shook his head. "Something's wrong. What do I do?"

"Enough whining, Malsin. Proceed."

"I'm not getting on that table," announced Benjamin.

"What if he bites?" Malsin asked. "Some of these things bite, you know."

"Nonsense! Humans are naturally docile creatures, like sheep, or alligators," urged Glaxor. "He won't bite."

"I bite," Benjamin assured him.