As I sat in my abandoned apartment, awaiting the impeding alien
assault, I firmly gripped my shotgun. Next to my chair was my
AK-47 assault rifle, made in Russia and (illegally) automatic. I
glanced to my right and reassuringly patted my trusty super
soaker, as you never know what can make an alien die. Days like
these typically didn't end well, especially for the folks in the
immediate area. With all these monsters, aliens, and flying
saucers about you could never know for sure. I look at my tape
machine, with every recording of my hopes and dreams as well as
my many loves and some random thoughts. I hear knocks all about
me, and look at my red wall. It is red.
My door bursts open, and I point my shotgun in the general
direction, standing before me is my imaginary friend, Friedrich.
"Damn it Friedrich!" I exclaim, "you're getting in the way!"
"Sorry Alex." My imaginary robot friend mutters apologetically.
"The slender man was chasing me again." He states in a matter of
"Was he really?" I inquire.
"Ayup, it was quite scary."
"Hm, alright, go hide in the drawer."
"That will do nicely. Good day."
I love Friedrich.
Suddenly, I hear the ear splitting screams of the aliens, which
to be non stereotypically named, are known intergalactically as
the Grey Radical Coalition, (GRC) and they fought because they
believed they had the universal right to eat brains. Not on my
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