E.T., that cute alien who lit up his finger and made a bunch of Earth kids fly around on bikes? That was me. But there’s more to this story than meets the glowing finger. Let me take you back to the real beginning.

I wasn’t even supposed to be here. I’m just an intergalactic botanist, man! My crew and I were on Earth for a simple plant-gathering mission. You know, checking out Earth’s flora, gathering samples—totally harmless stuff. But guess what? I wandered off for one minute to admire Earth’s flowers, and suddenly, they ditched me. Like, hello? I wasn’t even that far from the ship! I turned around, and boom, they were gone. Thanks, guys. Real classy. What are they, Uber drivers with a zero-star rating?

So, there I was, stranded in the middle of a forest. No spaceship, no way to get home, just me and some weird-looking trees. I was trying to stay calm when suddenly, I stumbled upon a bunch of humans. One of them, this kid, found me and did what any sensible human would do when they found an alien: he hid me in his closet. Uh, hello? I’m a highly intelligent being! I wasn’t looking for a slumber party with your stuffed animals.

Anyway, he was a nice enough kid, but he started treating me like a pet. “Oh, here, have some candy,” he said, throwing me these weird little pellets called Reese’s Pieces. Now, I was all about trying new food, but the amount of sugar in those things? My alien digestive system was not prepared. Suddenly, I was jittery, my finger was glowing, and now I was expected to entertain this kid with magic tricks.

Oh, and then there was his sister. Adorable, sure, but she was over here trying to dress me up like I was some kind of alien Barbie. She was putting me in wigs, slapping on makeup, and I was just like, “Girl, I was trying to phone home, not model for Earth fashion.” But no, nobody seemed to care that I was stranded, panicking, and glowing like a defective Christmas ornament.

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Eventually, I realized these humans weren’t going to help me call home, they were too busy asking me to levitate things. So, I took matters into my own glowing hands. I built a communicator out of an old Speak & Spell (don’t ask me how—we’re aliens, we’re good at this stuff). But just as I was about to make the ultimate intergalactic collect call, the government showed up. Of course! Because nothing says “peaceful alien encounter” like men in hazmat suits barging into your hideout.

Now, I was no stranger to a bit of drama, but suddenly I was being wheeled around like I was on some alien life-support machine, and they were treating me like I was radioactive. I mean, I wasn’t trying to cause trouble. All I wanted was to get home! But no, the humans had to complicate everything with their tests and probes.

Meanwhile, the kid and his friends had decided that riding bikes through the air was the best way to get me to safety. Bikes? Look, I know I made them fly, and yes, it looked cool, but you try carrying a bunch of kids through the sky on bicycles while simultaneously trying to hold together a fragile intergalactic communicator. It was exhausting! I didn’t sign up for this kind of cardio. But hey, the kids were having the time of their lives, so what could I do? I was a guest on their planet.

Finally, FINALLY, my ship arrived. My crew sheepishly came back for me like, ‘Oh hey, sorry we left you behind, bro.’ Yeah, thanks for that. You couldn’t have come a little sooner before I got tangled up in all this Earth drama? I was just about to head up the ramp when the kid gave me this big, emotional goodbye hug. Look, kid, I’ll miss you too, but I really needed to get back to my planet where people didn’t lock me in closets or force me to bike over forests.

So, the moral of the story? Don’t assume the cute little alien wants to stay and hang out. We’ve got lives too, you know. I’m just a botanist who got caught up in a bad situation. And for the record, my glowing finger isn’t for show—it’s the alien equivalent of a “low battery” warning. I needed to recharge, not lead a parade of flying kids.

The end.