What would you do if you woke up and found yourself surrounded by aliens?

I would shake myself and check that they were, in fact alien.

“Excuse me sir, I sense that you are not from around here?’

‘No, what gave it away?’

‘Your heart-shaped head. It has become the symbol of aliens on this planet.’

‘Has it so?’ the heart-shaped head and large googly eyes would respond back. ‘

Yes, we tend to struggle guessing political events, but it seems we get the image descriptions of unidentified objects correct.’

Always strict with my morning routine, I would crawl out of bed and make my way to the kitchen. If I am in the presence of an alien, I best be on my best behaviour and that would require coffee. Dripped and black coffee to be precise.

‘Would you care for coffee?’ I would ask semi-sarcastically.

‘No, no - I don’t know how you humans drink the vile thing.’

‘And you propose something better?’

‘Anything is better,’ the alien would respond. As I place the filter paper in the v60, I would sheepishly look around from the counter to face him. The alien would have situated itself on to the Ikea step stool, that is the centre piece of my kitchen.

He is slim and slender from the waist, shorter than I would I have ever imagined a feared being could be. If he tries anything dodgy, I could take him down, I think.

His black beady eyes dart up as I think it.

‘Hell, you can read my mind,’

‘No, we have an energy radar. Your energy shifted to wanting to harm me.’

‘That’s a very specific energy radar’

‘We are specific beings.’

He is wearing a loose waistcoat with metal chain links at the front. The clips on the chain link have some sort of symbol on them. A soft oval clip with what seems like two Martian hands cupped together. Not very scary at all. His skin looks somewhat very elasticated, I would get the urge to tug on it because whenever would I get to feel a Martian’s skin?

Waiting patiently for me to finish my task at hand the alien would be checking out his fingernails, he only has three and they are oddly very clean. A lot cleaner than the nails of men I have dated. He is at ease, as if he seems to have done this before.

‘So, what do I call you?’

‘Alien is fine, you won’t be able to pronounce it anyway.’

‘No, not before coffee,’ I respond.

After our polite exchange of formalities, I jump on the kitchen counter and start the inquisition.

‘Where did you come from?’

 The alien is happy to answer any of the questions I have, he replies honestly and earnestly. He explains that he is from Mars, and they are looking for humans to migrate. His sole job was to find humans that could in fact join their colony.

‘Why humans?’ I would ask, curious.

‘Because it seems you guys need saving,’ he would respond.