Sunday, 29 March 2009

Close Encounters!

So there's this guy.

Or maybe there isn't this guy. Or maybe he's a bit more than a guy. Or... I dunno.

OK, first thing's first - me and Emerson are through. He ditched me at Cherry Hill Mall, just cos I said he would look cute in this one sweater we saw. Emerson's the kind of guy who would look cute in anything - I was basically paying him a compliment! But no, he tells me that blah blah blah, I'm too controlling, I'm too this, I'm too that... Then he tells me I'm not his mannequin (or something?) and storms off. This was in front of everyone, by the way. Not that it made much difference in the end cos of the thing that happened next. And what was that, you ask? To which I reply - DON'T YOU WATCH THE NEWS??

Yeah, so I pretty much had a close encounter at the mall. And when I say close encounter... I mean I kissed a phenomenally large spaceman on the lips. Yeah, I bounce back fast. No, I'm playing this down, but there was something... I dunno. It was like I couldn't help myself. And there was this giant guy, like a mutant bull on steroids, all looming over us and shouting about how he was gonna rip our heads off or something... Then up gets my guy (his name's Barock. Yeah, I know - like the POTUS. I'm pretty sure it's just a coincidence though...) and just wails on him. BAM! Broken glass and shattered masonry and smoke and dust and holy cow. Then our big, evil friend (Minog - not sure if that's his first name or his last) ups and, well... teleports outta there, I guess.

Pretty wild, huh? Then before I know it, the cops have opened fire on me and Barock and his too-beautiful-to-live best friend (Helius?) and we're floating up into the sky and then we're outside and I give Barock my card and ask if he wants to come to a party and then he touches my face and then... CHOOM, he takes off into the sky like goddamn Superman.

I know.

So then I spend like three hours with the police and I can't tell them anything (because what do I know from broad-shouldered, blond space-cops?) and so they let me go and if I remember anything else I shouldn't hesitate to call. Officer, I had sex with that man and then we had terrifyingly powerful space babies and eventually I became Queen of the Universe. And you're all fired.

Back at work today. In a normal, rational world, I'd expect Jane or Clifford or someone to ask me to write this thing up. But I know that's out of the question. Anyway - and call me shallow - I've got a killer idea for a fashion feature. I'm pretty sure Jane isn't going to go for it - her job description is essentially "make Zoe feel like crap" - but you gotta give it a shot, right?

Anyway, phew. It's late, and I think I need a long bath and some downtime. Maybe a bottle or two of downtime. See you in the funny pages!