"BOOMMMM!!!!!!!!"
That was the first sound I heard when I was jolted out of my beauty sleep into reality. I looked around and saw a vision of green humans surrounding my bed, poking me with all sorts of glowing voodoo sticks and chanting "Lemi Lemu Ayaba"—which I later found out meant "we have finally found our Queen"—while performing some initiation rites.
You're confused about how we got here, right? Well, so am I, but after spending a few moments with these weirdos and doing some reminiscing, I guess I understand it a little bit. So let me try to explain and give you the rundown of what I did when I found myself surrounded by aliens. Who knows? It might be your guide to surviving if it happens to you.
The day was a bright and horrifying Monday. My alarm didn't ring, so I slept through and, of course, missed the mean lecturer's class. Just my luck—he decided to take a test worth 20 percent of my overall score this semester. Well, that aside, as we say where I'm from, "we go rough am" (meaning we'll find a way to pull through). I'll definitely find a solution; I always do.
I got up, took a fast shower, and ran to campus for classes. As you can see, my day was actually headed off to a bad start. It only got worse from there: I missed the test, got tripped and fell in mud, started my period a few days early, and a button popped off my shirt with no safety pin in sight. It was just horrible. I was ready for the day to be over, but the Universe had other plans.
I got back to my apartment in the evening, took a shower, and was feeling a little better when my roommate called me from her room, hurrying me to come watch the news. I was shocked—we almost never watch the news, which you'd agree is the norm for most college students. As soon as I viewed the TV, I laughed. CNN was broadcasting that we should be alert because aliens had landed on Earth, more specifically in certain vicinities. What made it even more hilarious was that they landed in my area and were reportedly looking for something. I dismissed it, laughing.
Then I woke up to the sight of three green people. Initially, screaming in hysterics seemed the natural reaction, and I didn't fail at accomplishing that, but that just got me poked and prodded while solidifying their proclamation of me being their queen. I finally stopped screaming and gathered them around for a nice conversation (friendly sort—those aliens), and then we laughed through the night. I guess my roommate thought I was crazy because they couldn't see the aliens, but who cares?
So here we are—me with my alien friends who now know about human relationships and all the Earth's trade secrets (had to tell them this so they wouldn't tickle me), and you hearing about how this happened.
The aliens, as it turned out, weren't just any old visitors from outer space. They were a quirky bunch who called themselves the Lemians, and they had this whole prophecy about finding an Earth queen who would help bridge their world with ours. Apparently, my absolutely terrible Monday qualified me for the position. Who knew having the worst day ever could lead to intergalactic royalty?
"So let me get this straight," I said to the tallest alien, who called himself Zax. "You've traveled across multiple galaxies to find someone who had the perfect combination of bad luck and good humor?"
"Precisely, Earth Queen!" Zax's antennae wiggled excitedly. "Your ability to face adversity with resilience and still maintain your sense of humor is exactly what our people need."
My roommate Sarah kept walking past my room, giving me concerned looks. She couldn't see the aliens - apparently, they existed on a frequency only visible to their chosen queen. Great, now I looked like I was talking to myself. Just another thing to add to my list of Monday disasters.
"And what exactly does being your queen entail?" I asked, trying to ignore Sarah's worried face peeping through my doorway for the fifth time.
The aliens exchanged looks before the smallest one, Pip, spoke up. "Well, mostly just being yourself. But also maybe helping us understand Earth customs? We've been watching your Netflix, but we're very confused about this thing called 'ghosting' and why humans pretend to be busy when they're actually just watching cat videos."
I couldn't help but laugh. Here I was, having failed a test, ruined my clothes, and started my period early, now explaining modern dating culture to green aliens who had apparently been binge-watching romantic comedies.
"Well," I began, settling cross-legged on my bed while Pip and Zax perched on my desk chairs, their green skin glowing softly in the dim room, "ghosting is basically when someone disappears from your life without explanation. Like poof - gone! Kind of like how you guys probably appear and disappear to everyone except me."
"Fascinating!" Zax's antennae twitched. "And this 'Netflix and chill' ritual we observed?"
I nearly choked on my own spit. "Oh no, we are NOT having that conversation right now!"
Just then, Sarah barged in again, this time with our other best friend- Jenny in tow. "See?" Sarah whispered loudly, "She's been talking to herself for hours!"
I rolled my eyes at my alien friends, who were now mimicking Sarah's concerned expression with exaggerated faces. "I'm fine, guys. Just... practicing for a theater audition!" The lie came out smoothly, though I hadn't been in theater since my disastrous role as Tree Number Three in middle school.
Jenny looked unconvinced but left anyway, muttering something about "keeping an eye on the situation." Sarah lingered, her face scrunched up with worry.
"Girl, I'm fine," I assured her. "Just having a rough day and talking through it. You know how I get."
After Sarah finally left, Pip floated - yes, actually floated - over to my collection of polaroid photos on the wall. "What are these frozen moments?"
"Those are photographs. They capture moments in time." I explained, then had to stop them from trying to "free" the people trapped in my pictures.
The night continued like this - me explaining basic human concepts while trying not to laugh too loudly at their bizarre interpretations. They were particularly fascinated by memes, though their attempts to understand "This is fine" dog and "Distracted Boyfriend" made my brain hurt.
"But why is the dog okay with being on fire?" Zax kept asking. "And why does the male human risk his relationship for a fleeting glance? Are all Earth relationships this complicated?"
"Trust me," I sighed, "Earth relationships are WAY more complicated than that."
Around midnight, while I was explaining the concept of pizza delivery (which they found both horrifying and intriguing), my phone buzzed. It was my mom.
"Hey sweetie, you okay? Sarah called and said you've been acting strange..."
Great. Now my roommate was calling in reinforcements. "I'm fine, Mom. Just a rough day. Failed a test, fell in mud, you know - the usual Monday stuff."
"Oh honey," she said in that mom-voice that always made everything feel a little better. "Want me to send you some comfort food?"
Behind me, Pip was attempting to recreate my mud-falling incident by dramatically throwing himself onto my floor, while Zax took notes on what appeared to be a holographic tablet. I stifled a giggle.
"Thanks Mom, but I'm good. Actually feeling much better now." And surprisingly, I was. Having space royalty choose you as their cultural ambassador kind of puts a failed test into perspective.
After hanging up, I turned to my alien audience. "Okay, your turn. Tell me about your world. Is everything really green there? Do you have schools? What's alien food like?"
Their faces lit up - literally, their skin started glowing brighter - and they launched into tales about their home planet. Apparently, they had something similar to Netflix called "Mind-Meld Entertainment," where you could actually feel what the characters feel. Their food was all thought-based; you imagined what you wanted to taste and their advanced technology made it happen.
"No more disappointing takeout orders?" I mused. "Maybe your civilization is more advanced than ours after all."
Around 3 AM, after I'd taught them about TikTok dances (which they were surprisingly good at) and they'd taught me how to levitate slightly (which I was surprisingly bad at), Zax announced it was time for them to go.
"But fear not, Earth Queen! We shall return tomorrow night for more cultural exchange. Perhaps you can explain this curious Earth custom called 'procrastination' that you demonstrated by sleeping through your alarm?"
I groaned. "Maybe we should start with something simpler. Like quantum physics."
As they disappeared - literally fading away like some sci-fi special effect - I flopped back onto my bed, exhausted but grinning. My Monday had started as a complete disaster, but ended with me becoming an alien queen and cultural ambassador. Not bad for a day that began with a missed alarm.
I set three alarms for the next morning, just in case. After all, a queen should be punctual, even if she's only queen to a bunch of Netflix-obsessed aliens who couldn't understand why humans paid for gym memberships but then avoided using them.
As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow's "cultural exchange" would bring. At least I knew one thing - college life had just gotten a whole lot more interesting. And maybe, just maybe, being chosen as an alien queen would look good on my resume. Under "Leadership Experience," of course.
The last thing I thought before sleep took me was how I'd explain all this to my therapist. But then again, some stories are better left untold. Especially when they involve teaching aliens about human dating customs while wearing mud-stained clothes and trying to convince your roommate you haven't lost your mind.
Just another Monday in the life of an accidental alien queen.
