Six years ago I was on a routine mission to Mars when I was attacked by an alien life form. It burrowed it’s head inside me and immediately began living off my bodies nutrients. Doctors said that removing the creature would mean certain death for both of us. Without any choice, the two of us were forced to live together and have the whole thing filmed for VH1. At first it was tough, we couldn’t agree on anything. The alien hated it when I would have ketchup with my eggs and I hated it when the alien’s subconscious would bleed into mine and I’d have to witness his entire race being violently destroyed over and over again. Sometimes we’d even argue about our roles in the relationship. He would yell things like: “You may technically be the host, but emotionally, you’re a god damn parasite.” I’m no angel either. I’m guilty of calling him a virus, a leech, a deadbeat, and a mooch. I was correct in calling him all those things and he didn’t take any offense to it, but I’d still feel bad. Then about two years ago we met with a couples counselor and she suggested that we try having a symbiotic relationship: one where we can both benefit. Since that day it’s been smooth sailing. I provide the alien with the basic nutrients he needs to survive and in return I’m losing touch with other human beings and I can only see things in infrared. Try sneaking up on me now!