Alien Story Essay Research Paper The Most

Alien Story Essay, Research Paper

The Most Messed Up Story You Will Ever Read

I am going to start my story in the past. This is mainly because this is where it

starts. It was not planned. If I had to do over, I would have not followed the path that I

had chosen. You see this path led to me being married to my loving, caring,

thoughtful husband. There is nothing in this universe more disgusting.

It all started about five years ago. I had just awoken from my slumber. It was not a

welcomed awakening. In fact, I was having quite a good dream about Rod Hugebone,

the college football team’s star quarterback. This guy was the man of my dreams,

literally. Oh the things I would fantasize him doing with me and a bottle of whip

cream…but that is another story for another time. You see I had just been woken up

by the evil, all-consuming sound of my alarm clock. Damn, those things are devilish.

Well, any ways, I slowly rolled out of bed, and put my feet onto the soft carpet. It is a

new carpet that the college had just installed in all the rooms in my building. It is

much more soft, and a lot better color blue, than the old carpet. I made my way to the

bathroom, remembering to put my robe on.

“Don’t want to go out walking around the hallways naked,” I thought.

I made my way into the bathroom, which is only across the hall from me, when it

hit me.

“I forgot my shower box thingy!”

I went back to my room, unlocked the door, and got the little plastic carrying box

that holds all of my showering needs. I made my way back to the bathroom and

proceeded to take a much-needed shower.

The soft water trickled down my back as I used my poof ball to massage the body

lotion upon my skin. I wouldn’t say that I was beautiful, but the term ugly has never

been uttered around me. The smooth sensation of the water sends chills up and down

my back.

After the shower, I make my way back to my room and put on some clothes. A

nice pair of khaki pants, and a green sweater. I throw on my Keds, and make my way

to my desk where all my books reside. I pick up my Biology and English books, and

head to the car garage. This is where my 1984 Ford Tempo lives.

In the garage I see the girl that rides to school with me. Her name is Jane Mills. I

have been giving this girl a ride to class now on Tuesdays for the entire semester. We

met in class when we were assigned to work in groups. Her and I were put into a

group, and one thing led to another. You know how it is.

So any ways, her and I leave the car garage and make our way onto route 42. This

is the main road of the campus. It also has a name. Long St. We take the left out of

the garage and start towards my first building of the day. We stop at the stop sign, in

hopes of being good law-abiding students. Making my way to the tattered parking lot,

I find a spot in the middle of the middle row, in the middle section. Getting out of the

car, we go to the building and get into class.

Oh class, let the fun begin. This part of the story has no importance so we’ll jump

right along.

After class Jane and I say our good-byes and head our separate ways. She is all

done with classes at this point, though I have to drive back across campus to my

English class.

At my car I find a flyer for the local band, “Mockchild.” It’s some band that plays

evil, evil music. The lead singer I guess tried to leave the band, and the other

members ate him. That is why they have a new singer. I carefully take the flyer and

make sure that the entire piece of paper hits the ground, making sure that not a bit of

it gets in my car.

Off I go onto the way to my new class.

“Wow, It’s bright out. And it’s so sunny,” I thought.

I take the turn onto Prescott St. and that’s when it happened. Taking the turn, I feel

a thump, and them a gruesome scream and a crunch underneath my car. I quickly stop

the vehicle and hop out. Not quite sure what to guess, and hoping to God that it isn’t a

person, I run to the front of the car. This is where I see the carnage. I see parts of a

human being strung across the front of the car. Pieces of flesh, a portion of hamstring,

and just a hint of finger. I fall to my knees in agonizing guilt, and that’s when I see

the rest of the man underneath the car.

“He’s still alive!” I yelled out.

Several people in the small crowd that was now forming made their way to their

cellphones, and call for help. I look down into the guy’s eyes, which are a really great

colored blue, and ask if he is ok.

“Oh dear God! My legs! I can’t feel my legs!” Was the reply that I got.

“Oh sir, I am so sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

“ You slut! You stupid *censored*ing bitch! How the *censored* didn’t you see me! What are

you. Some dumb…Arrgh!”

“Don’t worry mister, The paramedics are on the way.” As I was saying this, I found

myself starting to get that sq

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