This is Just Part of a Little Short Story I wrote...Hope it Makes You Chuckle
Xeno was near-perfectly normal. He lived in a suburb in New Jersey. Every day, he would go to New York to his job as an accountant. He would work, then come home. He'd relax for a little while, then go to sleep. Perfectly normal routine. The only way he differed from anyone else was that he was an Alien.
Yes, I mean those aliens from the Alien quadrilogy. He decided that he wasn't cut out for that life, came here, and fit into a little rut. Don't believe me? Why should you? He can just tell you all about it himself. Which is why this article is here in the first place.
...is..is it working? The words coming out to you okay? Great. I'm used to just typing in numbers. That and the fact that I have no eyes makes this a bit difficult. Anyway, I'm here to tell you about me. The mysterious narrator person told you a little about me, right? Good. I suppose I should start at the beginning.
I was born into a Hive with about 5,000 brothers and sisters. My host was actually an inter-dimensional being of infinite knowledge. How we managed to pin it down in this dimension long enough for me to grow and burst out of him, I'm not sure. I think he lived through it, though. Since my host was so intelligent, I was much smarter than all the others around me. For one, I can talk and write. For another, I'm not an evil homicidal beast.
Some of you may be wondering at this point why my name is Xeno. No, I'm not lamely copying Xena. Xeno is Greek for alien, so I decided it was a fitting name for me. Most, or rather all, of the others don't have names, but I thought I should have one. After all, I'm the first Alien to get a job that doesn't involve killing and/or maiming other creatures.
Now, I never really fit in with Alien society. It really is very structured. We're basically like ants. Big, drooling ants that could tear you apart in seconds and bleed acid. But still ants. I was a drone, of course, but it wasn't for me. It was just so menial, you know? Find hosts, kill the people who come, that old routine. I wasn't really that interested in killing all those who happened upon our planet. In fact, once I struck up a great conversation with this woman who came. We were really hitting it off, but then one of my brothers came and ripped her face off.
None of the other Aliens really noticed my problems. Not that they thought that much. Don't get me wrong, we're a pretty smart species, but only when it comes to killing, destroying, maiming, and managing medium-sized national insurance companies. We don't use that last one much, though. We don't need insurance, and everyone else who comes is uninsurable because they're on a planet filled with, well, us.
Eventually, I decided to leave. I just couldn't take life there anymore. The Queen was really understanding, mainly because she didn't care. So I tried to hitch a ride off the planet. It wasn't easy; one of the first to come was some woman named Ripley or something. When I tried to get on board and ask her to take me somewhere, she went all crazy and took out a flamethrower. Barely got out of that one alive. After some failed attempts, a couple of reject Predators gave me a lift. And so I was off, off to a new life.
To Be Continued