In the corner of Collin's small kitchen was a mouse. Collin knew the mouse didn't belong there, and the mouse also knew that it didn't belong there. They stood, staring intensely at one another for a good long while before either could process what was going to happen. There were two very good reasons why Collin knew the mouse didn't belong there, first of all because it was orange and second of all because it was in his kitchen, which is not a place suited for mice.
The universe, it seems, likes to play with itself, injecting things where they do not belong and leaving said things to figure themselves out, without much regard for their well being nor their socioeconomic status. This perturbs many 'things' that find themselves being moved about by the universe into situations where they are in mortal danger, or where they are slightly embarrassed, finding themselves under dressed for fancy parties. Petitions have been raised at the Grand Intergalactic Summit to stop the universe from doing this, but, thus far, they've all been tied up in the legal process of finding how to serve papers to the Universe and get it to participate in a hearing on the subject.
Thus, we return to Collin and the misplaced mouse:
"This kitchen is far too big for me, and these colors, uhg. I must have been moved," the mouse said, it's tiny voice audible in the silence. "You there, Giant biped, Can you tell me where I am now?
Collin paused before uttering out, "Uhhhh, you're in my kitchen, little mouse. And what's wrong with the colors?"
"Quite, yes. I figured that one out for myself, thank you. Anyways, can you please direct me to your planet's Grand Intergalactic Embassy and I'll be on my way out of your kitchen?"
Collin began slowly nodding his head, his lips and brow curling into a peculiar frown. "This, this is what going crazy feels like I guess," he said in a quiet voice, talking to himself.
"No, large one, you're not mad, I just need-"
"Orange mouse winds up in my kitchen and starts making up excuses to get out?" Collin continued to himself, cutting off the mouse. "I don't suppose you'd like some cheese and water before you're on your way as well?" He asked louder, actually addressing the mouse.
The Mouse cocked its head to the side and said, "Well," it paused, "If you're offering, that'd be quite nice. I haven't eaten all day."
"Oh, well sure, have a seat at the table then," he said sarcastically, turning to take a shot glass out of the cupboard, filing it with water and placing it on the table. "You have a preference? I think I have Swiss and Colby Jack left."
"Swiss, please," replied the mouse, as it scurried up the chair leg, scratching its claws against the unfinished wood to get to the top of the backrest, allowing for a small hop onto the tabletop.
Collin slid a shot glass full of water and an appetizer plate with two slices of deli Swiss cheese laid out on it, slightly overlapping to give it an aesthetic, one that would be expected of someone just serving two slices of cheese to a guest. The shot glass had a two-color print of a Route 66 road sign on it. The mouse waited patiently for the items to come to a rest before him, though his tail wriggled around seeming to indicate how excited he was.
"It's not every day someone offers you cheese, you know?" the mouse asked, rhetorically. "What is your name, sir?"
The second question did not seem rhetorical, but then the difference was sometimes hard to distinguish, even for beings from other countries residing on the same planet. Luckily for Collin and the mouse, the Galactic Rulership of Ursa Major had enacted a law mandating the embedment of Privot Crystals on the inside of all sentient and sapient beings' skulls, or otherwise equivalent area. The crystals allow for communication across all forms of intelligent life forms in its truest form. The use of the crystals has shown a dramatic increase in the "Oh, now I get it!" exclamation from students across the galaxy. As well, many disputes flowing from mistaken pronunciation or colloquialisms being taken the wrong way have been alleviated due to this policy.
It was a struggle for Regional Representative Marco Drabblewaganox, of the planet Drabahexanatox to propagate the idea that such legislation would be beneficial to everyone. He first began by mounting a rather large campaign designed to show the potential benefits of everyone having their messages understood. This failed largely because people people didn't seem to care. Only some few young early adopters underwent the procedure so they could feel superior to the older generation. Marco then attempted to push the legislation through normal channels, but it was fought with a campaign based around the slogan "Don't open up my mind cavity and put things in it," which proved difficult to fight against regardless as to how it wasn't very catchy.
It wasn't until the expiration of the regulation for interplanetary space visas that an opportunity arose. Marco had a clause inserted into the existing legislation stating that anyone who wished to obtain or renew an interplanetary space visa will have the option to opt-out of getting the procedure if they wished. This was met with people behaving as they always have and not reading the rules they were signing up for, and, in order to avoid the bureaucracy of the system, just went ahead and had the damned crystal inserted so they could go about their business. With the vast majority of travelers agreeing to get the procedure done, it was easier to convince everyone that it was a good idea in the first place.
The Milky Way Galaxy, where we find our story taking place, has no such legislation, and therefore has a greater propensity for misunderstandings, disagreements and war. The reason for this isn't quite clear to the citizens of Ursa Major, as the Milky Way Galactic Confederation is a mostly-functioning government bureaucracy with the power and will to enforce such a sensible rule, though most of them write it off as a budgetary constraint.
Normally when the universe moves beings into the Milky Way Galaxy, said beings are killed for being "Different." This makes the interaction between Collin and the mouse all the more peculiar as they did not immediately begin fighting with one another over a petty incongruity in communication. Right now, the couple are about to discuss their situation like civilized beings due to the foresight of the government of Ursa Minor and the dedication of one Marco Drabblewaganox.
The man took a seat across from the mouse at the wood table and hunched his back, dropping his face into his hands, staring at the mouse through his fingers. "I'm Collin, Collin Jaffe. Ehh, and you are?" He asked, sounding as if he disbelieved the conversation was actually happening.
"I am Torp, of the planet Arf, Ursa Minor galaxy," replied the orange mouse, who then lowered his nose and began nibbling at the cheese in front of him.
"Interesting. Nice to meet you Torp," Collin replied. "Are you sure I'm not going insane?"
Raising his head from the cheese, Torp continued, "Oh yes, you're likely just experiencing disorientation and bewilderment. Given your response thus far, I assume you're relatively new to close encounters? My this is good cheese!"
"Close encounter? Oh. Haha, yes. You're an alien, I get it. Yeah, this'd be my first," the man said while nodding his head and trying to put on a smile while his brow remained furrowed, giving him a perplexed look he was expressly trying to avoid.
"Your first? Wow, then I suppose you did the right thing offering me cheese," Torp nibbled more on the cheese, getting to about half way through his first slice before continuing, "Not many planets out there have got cheese, and those that do always seem reluctant to part with it. MMmmm!" He exclaimed.
"Well, I'm glad you're satisfied. You're not going to abduct me or anything, are you? I don't have to take you to meet my leader?"
"No, no, nothing like that. Though I am still hoping you can point me towards your local Grand Galactic Embassy so I can be on my way."
"Ahh, you see," said the man, resting his chin on his hand, staring curiously at the mouse, "I don't think we've got one of those."
"Oh," Torp said, eating the last bit of cheese, "Well, that's going to cause some issues."
