Now That Everyone Knows Aliens Exist, Can I Please Hang Out with You Guys after Work?



Greetings, Earthlings. Ha! Remember that one, Kevin? So now that everyone knows about aliens, I was really hoping we could revisit the whole, “I’m not allowed to hang out with you guys after work because knowledge of aliens is classified information” thing. Thanks to the US congressional hearing and that amazing whistleblower David Grusch, the whole world knows about aliens!

When everybody is clocking out at Area 51 to make it to the wings happy hour special at Mikey’s Bar and Grill, it sounds like I can come now.

The first time I overheard Mark talking about happy hour with my supersonic sound holes, I said, “Count ol’ ŘŒŇ in!” Everyone got real quiet and panicky. I know it’s just because everyone was nervous to let me down.

Finally, after five minutes of complete silence, Jason said to me, “If anyone sees you out in public with us they would know that aliens existed and that would be a massive national security threat.” I offered to shapeshift so that I look exactly like Kevin or even just wear a baseball cap if it would be helpful. That’s when Mark added, “Uh… humans can… definitely smell when… uh… humans are hanging out with non-humans so uh… they could still tell. Definitely.”

He also mentioned this applies to hanging out at my place and drinking a couple of clold ones with the bloys (remember that one, Kevin?). It’s not actually whether the hang spot is public or private, it’s whether I’m there or not.

I asked Patricia in HR if this was true and she told me, “Stop trying to use HR to make people hang out with you outside of work.” I asked her if she wanted to hang out and then she sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and said, “Everything those guys told you was true.”

I always found it odd that I’m allowed to leave Area 51 and go home to my apartment, but coming out to happy hour with you guys would be a national security threat. But I get it. I’ve grown fond of this place—it’s become a second home to me after my UFO crash. “Glob bless America!” as we like to say on Earth.

But now that everyone knows I exist, it sounds like there’s no reason I can’t come with. In fact, I bet I would be a valuable addition to the happy hour.

Did you know that I love wings? I’ll go home at night, disconnect my bones and crush probably about 30-40 whole live chickens at once. Then I’ll watch The Big Bang Theory before I turn in for eight hours of recharge.

Hey, now that the clats out of the blag (remember that one, Kevin?) on this one, do you think now I can do water cooler talk with you guys about The Big Bang Theory? I remember the day the team was sharing their favorite quotes from Anchorman and Mean Girls and I tried to chime in by simultaneously projecting all 12 seasons of The Big Bang Theory from my sight and food holes. Daryl stopped me and said, “Oh uh… Rowen? Sorry but humans can also tell when a non-human talks about a science-based show. It’s like… an instinct. So it’s actually really unsafe to talk to us about The Big Bang Theory.”

Now, things can be different! I can hang out, noshing on some whole chickens and we can spend about 139 hours and 30 minutes discussing The Big Bang Theory. I know that would make Daryl feel better about telling me we couldn’t earlier.

Who knows, since this whole alien ban thing is lifting, maybe I can whip out my ĞƴŐṚÞ and play a couple tunes at the bar. I’ve got a 48-minute song about all the war and death on my home planet. I know you’ve all been dying to hear how I shred!

Don’t worry, I already asked Patricia to file the paperwork to hang out. I’ll meet you all at Mikey’s at 5pm sharp. First I have to heat my salmon in the microwave for ten minutes so the break room smells like my home planet. Isn’t it so cool that salmon is exactly the same on Earth and ẓǁŐňĞ? Can’t wait to be part of the gang.

Mondays! Remember that one, Kevin?

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