He writes in his kitchen in Southern California. He has a cactus named Carl and a job. He likes diet soda and cigarettes.
“Whoa... who are the blue dudes?”
"We made it dude! Aliens DO exist!"
"THIS IS BIGGER THAN YOU AND I’M NOT AFRAID TO DIE FOR IT!
It was clear to me that a guy called El Scorpion from Colombia sounded less like some hero who rescues exotic animals and more like a guy who turns leaves into cocaine.
Tonight, we set our sights upward and cast our vision to the stars
Tom’s homemade spaceship - Your one way ticket to the afterlife
He only said one word: Space.
This is the end. My only friend. The end.
Alien Ant Farm was onstage butchering a Michael Jackson song when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"Everything I've told you is true; this job will kill you!" Gary wheezed.
All I know is that if you smoke enough rock cocaine, you will believe you have super powers.
A fist came crashing into my nose so suddenly that I had no time to duck. "Welcome to the team, bitch!"