“I fucking hate you.”
No doubt you’re aware I’ve heard that phrase before. But this time was a first:
It’s the first time these were the first words ever uttered to me from another person.
Proud moment, indeed.
Although I knew something was amiss when she entered the building and stalked in front of me I didn’t know the level until her story began to unfold.
EVERYONE, and I’m talking even you, are after her. Her friends only pretended to be her friends. Authorities are watching her all the time. The police broke into her house and stole her cigarettes. THEN they had her followed to make sure she didn’t get back to catch them.
I could go on because, lord knows, she did.
I know this person shouldn’t be offered up for comedy and I’m not (really) making fun of her (trust me, it’s taking all my willpower) I’m just reporting on my life so you can go about your day feeling better about your life.
Suddenly there was a tectonic shift in our relationship. I guess my lack of interaction had given her a glimpse into my soul.
“I know I can trust you.”
“No, that’s okay, you can keep hating me.”
“No, I need someone from here to know what’s really going on.”
She didn’t mean someone from my city, she meant the planet earth. What? I forgot to mention she’s an alien? Silly me. I’m so forgetful.
Or just figured you’d assume.
“I have to show you some papers.”
She reaches for her papers via pants. Not only did she reach into her pants to retrieve her booty she opened them up to her knees.
Which made access to the papers around her thighs and directly in front of her crotch very easy.
What was less helpful was the fact I learned:
Alf wasn’t the only hairy alien.
While I’m trying to explain that, it’s okay, I’ll take her word for it, she tosses the papers on to my desk.
Great, now I’m going to have to burn another one.
While she’s fixing her space suit I’m being told which papers to look for. I know I have to extricate from this before I, inevitably, say something I’d think funny but is often considered mean.
“Let me ask you one question before I look at your documents.” She stands up straight, pants fully operational, and awaits my question.
“If you’re an alien, how come you have a belly button?”
I’m not saying aliens can’t have belly buttons but she’d explained she was hatched.
Let me give you advice, boys and girls, never question the veracity of an alien. They take bad form like that very seriously.
While jumping over her papers so I wouldn’t be able to glean their vital information she’s releasing a torrent that could have been in an alien language for as much as I could understand.
After jamming all the papers down her pants and into her shirt she got it together long enough to look me in the eyes and say,
“I fucking hate you.”
Ahh, it’s good to see that coming full circle is just as important to other life forms.