I was high off my motherfucking ass-and I think that's why he let me live...Aliens didn't apparently grasp the concept of mind altering drugs, because this alien was very shocked at my behavior. I was a crazy American tourist visiting Brazil with my crappy boyfriend. When he left me alone in the hotel room, I decided to get a little high...In my high stupor I ran around in the streets. Anyone could have guessed I was going to get into serious trouble, get myself raped or killed or something-but no one could have guessed id run into a friggin alien. So, yea, this is that story.

First of all, my crappy boyfriend (Chris) lied about it being a hotel. It was actually one of his buddy's friends house. The guy rented the rooms out when money was getting tight. Wonderful, right? It was a shabby place, even the walls needed to be bleached. There were more empty beer bottles and socks on the ground than there was carpet. But Chris had described our trip to Brazil like a second honeymoon. I shouldn't have been so pessimistic, just because he couldn't afford a romantic lavish hotel! But you know what the bastard did on the first day we were there? He abandoned me. He took off with his friends to go bar hopping and probably find some hookers. So what did I do? I had a little me party.

I rummaged threw his friends stuff and found a beautiful pipe and a lot of pot (among other things-dirty magazines! lol). I'd quit that nasty smoking stuff years ago around when my dad died, but tonight it sounded good. I turned on the TV, drank a beer, lit the pipe, and pretended I had some yummy popcorn-extra buttery popcorn! I sucked on the end of the pipe, feeling the heat and then the burning down my throat. I forced myself to take the deepest breath I could. I'd forgotten how bad it hurt. I slowly let out a breath, barely able to keep myself from coughing. I'd have to get used to the burning all over again. I took another hit quickly after that, the burning still worse. I was impatient and took another, eager to get that floating feeling. I took hit after hit and was starting to think Chris's friend had some really crappy stuff...then the next thing I knew, I was eating that imaginary popcorn.

I couldn't focus on the TV enough to remember what I was watching, but the party was great so far. Yay me...yea right...I climbed off the couch, and feeling like my feet were so far away, I walked to the kitchen. I snatched another beer from the fridge and looked for some food (would you believe that beer was the ONLY thing in the fucking fridge?). I rummaged threw the cabinets and found nothing. Frustrated, I went and searched Chris's bag for money. I planned on ordering pizza, but found something more fun. Chris had a box of Triple C's stashed in his bag among his underwear. I fumbled with the packaging, popping each little red pill out and then took about eight of them with a single gulp of beer. Now I was really going to have fun!

Being high made everything funny and interesting, but chill. CCC's made my heart race with energy and made me want to punch my fist threw a brick wall just from the rush! I turned on some music and began to sing and dance about the room. One problem: the furniture kept getting in my way and the street outside looked so much more spacious! I flung open the front door with a giggle. I stepped out under a dim street light. Then, I began to twerk. And dance! And sing! And twirl! Oh how the stars and the moon swirled above me!

I had lost both my shoes at some point, (when, I wasn't really sure of) but I was searching for them then. I zipped threw alley ways my eyes focused on the ground. I found them quickly enough, in the middle of the road. I sat in the street and slipped the cloth over my toes. For the life of me I couldn't remember how to tie them though...then it hit me-those weren't shoes...I had only found my socks. I continued my search for the missing shoes. Then I found some shoes on the ground in an alleyway! But I was smarter this time and realized they couldn't be mine because they were on a dead body. Nope, not my shoes. I stepped over the body and avoided the strange wet puddle around them, fearing for my socks. But then this dude got in my way. My face ran into his sculpted abs and I stumbled back.

He was HUGE. Had to be 7ft tall at least. He wore shiny gladiator armor on his shoulders and a metal mask. Thick dreads hung around his shoulders. I smiled up at him, and he let out a loud roar.

After my ears stopped feeling like they were friggin bleeding, I mumbled, "God that's hot."

His hand raised a shiny sword to my neck. I giggled and felt his huge muscular arm that held the weapon. He growled, and pressed the cold metal against my skin.

At to that, I said, "I like it when men talk dirty to me." And I my hand slipped threw his belt and under his protective metal cup.