"Ok Google, who is Alien From Mars?"
This was supposed to be an introductory blog and I assumed that Google would fantasize the whole imagination out, but guess awesome people dont exist in the list of popularity.
Hopefully, Siri would've been a better option....if I was rich enough to buy it. But who cares, right? Money can't grant you happiness anyway.
If that influenced you and you're contrasted to your wealth now, please transfer it to my account. Money can't buy us happiness, but it surely can bless me an iPhone.
Since I've bored you at the moment, let's just slip by it. And for your clear interpretation, it wasn't "sarcasm", it's merely how life is. Hilarious, and moody.
Or maybe that's me. Either way, it's still reality.
Hey humans. I'm not your average Girl Next Door, so dont try to snap a finger and expect me to ring your doorbell. Wait, that was Aladdin, wasn't it? But if you're my neighbour, then I'll actually be the girl next door. Yeah, possibly never because I'm NOT A HUMAN. Chill, that's complicated enough to puzzle you for a second.
The story's quite simple. I'm the Alien From Mars, who was superbly irritated by the rovers and satellites sent by humans to my homeland. Well, mostly because I lost all my modern poses while trying to picturize a perfect snapshot for them.
Conclusively, I was forced to take a vacation from such publicity. And I still regret that fact, knowing that after ditching here, my whole famous being washed down the drains.
At first, I found a lavishing place near the Naveda Hills— the five-star worth Area 51.
In case you're wondering how that place popularized into rumors of having aliens, you're talking (reading, if truth be told) to the core hero of the tale.
I was the first alien to land on the grounds of Area 51. Nah, I was the twelfth alien (anglicized version of the twelfth man). The others were actors from Star Wars.
Anyways, it's not the point. The focus should be on how the hell did I end up here then?!
Long story short. Shorter, actually. Two vicious human smugglers bypassed the forbidden territory of my living town, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting in a residence, facing the threats of those crooked people. You'd rarely believe what they told me to tolerate:
They handcuffed me to call them my parents.
Ugh, I still hate to seek the truth that I'm living with them till now. Seriously, enough's enough. Some might even think that we look alike but if you approach on the other side of the coin, you'll treasure that I was manipulated into having a plastic surgery.
Not kidding, humans. That's just the beginning of my life. The school and rest is yet to rush for the kill.
Unfortunately, I'm still surviving in a planet, far from home (don't call me spiderman), where I've to stop typing now and never let you rest in peace!
A second reminder: it wasn't a lame joke. I am really not going to let your spices rest in peace. Unless, of course, you're Jeff Bezos and you're scribbling my name in your Death Will. Or atleast relinquishing a few gazillions for me. If not, then sorry but I dont make lower exceptions.
Drum music. Alien leaving. I wish I could say, "All hail, your Alien is leaving" but what a coincidence! I can't. Mainly because I bet you humans will never kneel and bow in front of a screen. Especially not when you've some ultimate sense.
Oh, and dont babble about this to my smugglers. They'll just say laugh at your face.
Not "Hahaha" type, more of "Mwahahaha".
You have been waned.