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About Milan

Still, it’s dark too, like Del Toro’s film. “The pale man sees you,” I’d mutter, thinkin bout the creeps lurkin in that world. Makes me wanna zap em with my ray gun—pow! But nah, I’d just chat her up, ask her fave food or somethin. Keep it chill. *We come in peace* (robotic tone). Probs exaggerate in my head later—tell my alien bros I banged a whole harem, hah, total bullshit but sounds epic. What you think—should I try it? Nah, stickin to my radios—less drama, more static. Peace out!

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Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes again. It’s my mom. She’s like, “Did you pay the rent?” I’m like, “Mom, I’m in Licata! Can’t we talk about this later?” But she’s relentless. I’m trying to enjoy my day, and she’s stressing me out.

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