A crashing downstairs woke me up. “Whatthefuck?!” I yelled, falling out of bed onto a pile of legos. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck!!” I rolled off the danger-zone to safety on the pile of dirty clothes next to it. Peeling the caltrops off my body I got up and looked around. Everything seemed normal. My girlfriend slept soundly on the right side of the bed, pausing her adorable coma with a few grunts and a snore, before rolling over and resuming her cozy hibernation beneath the piles of soft loot from various authorized resellers. I quickly outfitted myself with a pair of fuzzy pink ( not just in color but also brand) pants, plunging my hands into the laundry-beast in the closet again and crawled Into a far-too-tight-tee depicting Marilyn Monroe in black-and-white blowing a vivid pink bubble, and some words in a red border that said something inspiring. “Why can’t I ever find my own clothes?” I asked desperately. “Probably because you only own a business week’s worth of outfits and it’s Saturday.” I imagined my girlfriend saying.

Another crash from downstairs. Cozy girlfriend rolled over once more and mumbled something about the aliens in the garage and aim for the soft bits before resuming a loud nasally chainsaw sound effect. I heaved the mounding clothing monstrosity aside and produced a tactical tomahawk, and a pair of brass knuckles. “I’ve always wanted a home invasion.” I whispered, gazing at the shiny metal hungrily.

I jumped up and quietly snuck to the door. I listened for a second before carefully unlocking the seven locks that protected us from Carl, the very unusual roommate who had a bad habit of sleep lock-picking and voyeurism. After remembering the alphanumeric code on the final lock, I peeked into the small hallway. Carl and Dom’s doors were closed. No light emanated from beneath. I wondered what time it was. Dom kept weird hours. Always sneaking out in the dead of night, bringing heavy, wet bags into his room, and always chanting in some foreign language. “I can’t wait to move out of this fucking loony bin.” I whispered under my breath, briefly considering entering Dom’s room and asking him to investigate with me, but I knew he kept several knives nearby when he slept, “always be ready to defend yourself, or die trying.” He told me once, and I couldn’t agree more. However, I’d rather not die by psychopathic roommate.

Another crash from downstairs. It was kinda muffled, so I figured they must be in the garage. I headed towards the stairs. Avoiding all the creaking spots with practiced precision, until one wrong step and I unleashed an unholy fart that lasted a whole twenty seconds. I smiled, appreciating the endurance, but then I heard the garage door open. A few wet sounding footsteps proceeded into the kitchen, which lay at the bottom of the stairs, and after a few nerve wracking moments heard the same footsteps retreat back to the garage.

I continued down the stairs carefully placing my feet in a middle-left-left-right-repeat pattern. At the bottom of the stairs and around the corner of the landing, the empty kitchen came into view. A strange, boggy smell lingered in the air and I felt apprehensive. I ignored the feeling and turned left towards the living room. The door to the garage was off to the left just beyond the chest freezer which was long overdue to be cleaned out. I passed these landmarks and proceeded. I steadied myself, prepared for the unexpected, and threw open the cold metal door. Two grey-green men stood in the middle of the room taking turns huffing an open gas can. I screamed and hurled the tomahawk at the genitalia of the first. It screamed and collapsed into an extraterrestrial pile. The other stumbled backwards in surprise and tripped over some torture devices Dom called his ‘normal tools’. I pounced, punching him in his tiny shriveled gonads repeatedly. After a minute I heard a deep pulsating rumble, and upon investigation, saw the sky blacked out by alien ships. “That’s a lot of space balls to bust.” I said, wiping the blood from my knuckles, and texting my girlfriend, “BRB, gotta start a resistance.”

“Okey! Please be home by 6:00, I’m making sushi and burgers, and wash the blood out from under your nails before you eat!”

“Yes ma’am” I replied before running out into the street screaming “For Humanity!!!”