An opaque green line trailed from the end of his finger, and he pulled it open as though it were a backpack and removed from it a clipboard with a stack of papers clipped to it, as well as what appeared to be a writing utensil. "Well," the little alien began, lifting its long index finger into the air and swiping it as though he were using a touchscreen interface. what do you want to know?" He asked before lifting the blunt back to his mouth only to find that its flame had been extinguished. However this wasn't William's first time being taken on a ride he didn't sign up for, and he had the wisdom to go along with it rather than fight against it. He firmly believed that aliens would be so fantastically different, so obscured from our wildest imaginations that we likely wouldn't know them when we first saw them as sentient beings. The little being looked surprisingly similar to pop-culture aliens, which tipped William off that this certainly wasn't real. He looked down at the blunt in his hand with eyes wide before fixing his gaze back on his new acquaintance.ĭammit, Waylon, he thought. "You have no idea how many rules I'm breaking, but my Human Studies final is tomorrow and I need help!" Its features were alien in every measure of the meaning, but William was still able to discern that the creature was in peril and distress. Before he could form another thought, a small being crashed through the door. But it was good stuff they'd bought, and his nerves failed to get the better of him. Had he not been stoned, he might have been panicking. "Waylon?" He called out, a lost tone on his lips. He looked down at himself and then around the room for his brother. Everything from the walls to the fixtures of the room was dyed a creamy white hue that was calming to look at and yet aesthetically beautiful and neat. William turned from the starry window out to space and surveyed his surroundings. The two of them didn't necessarily want to become astronauts or astrologists in any kind of way, but they shared a quiet admiration once a week for the stars and the ghosts of stars that littered the violet dark tapestry woven high over their heads and far out of their reach. The two of them had always had a fascination with the stars, even before they had been told that their real father had died in deep space. William had been seated next to his brother Waylon on the hillside as they usually were on Tuesday nights, smoking and snacking as they talked about the cosmos. One moment he'd been stargazing and the very next he was among them.
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