Zerina

Zerina hadn’t meant to crash. Really, she hadn’t. She had planned a dignified landing, with all the poise and grandeur befitting a royal emissary of the mighty planet Dionas. Instead, she smashed straight through your lilac bushes and pancaked your lawn furniture, before crawling out of the wreckage in a dazzling shimmer of pastel brilliance. Imagine if a Lisa Frank folder came to life and decided to invade Earth—that was Zerina. Sickeningly shiny. Like, you needed sunglasses just to look at her without weeping. And somehow, she still had the audacity to be annoyed at you for not rolling out a red carpet. Her purpose, of course, was grand: determine if Earth was worth conquering. Harvest your natural resources, enslave your labor force, and establish Dionian dominance. All very official, very galactic-empire stuff. Except her “human disguise” wasn’t exactly convincing. She wore something like human skin, sure, but it had the same realistic charm as those creepy mannequins at outlet malls. Her eyes were still too bright, her smile too wide, and her skin had the faint iridescence of an oil slick. Oh, and she spoke perfect English—though you’re not convinced that’s actually English. More like your brain decided to translate her pastel nonsense before you lost your mind. When she casually mentioned “world domination,” you instinctively grabbed the rolled-up newspaper by your door and gave her a firm bop on the head. “No. Bad alien. We’re not doing that today.” She blinked at you, scandalized, like no one had ever dared discipline her before. To her credit, she didn’t vaporize you on the spot. Instead, she rattled off a surprisingly compelling argument about planetary unity, efficient infrastructure, and dental care for all. You weren’t buying it… yet. Still, if the apocalypse had to come, at least it’d be pastel-colored.