Discovering My Sexy Alien Popstar Alter Ego

Anonymous,
Citizen of the World

Anya broke up with me.

When she finally moved the last box from our apartment, and gave me a half-hearted goodbye, I sat in the corner of our empty living room and cried. Anya had taken all of her possessions, her sheepskin rug, her plants, her Toni Morrison books, her record player. Her things, that were once our things. All that remained in the vacant, lifeless space that we used to call our home was a beat-up sofa and a lamp.

Tears stung my eyes as they trickled down my face. My body felt like a bag of useless muscles and brittle bones, too weak to even stand up. Anya was gone and all I had left were her memories.

Suddenly They appeared, glowing and radiating with sexual energy. Materializing in a cloud of neon smoke, they arrived soaked in heavy purple and pink lights. Somewhere I could hear a heavenly synth chord echo and a pulsating disco beat pounding in my head. Their shiny purple leather jumpsuit was so sharp it would burn your eyes. Their slicked back blue hair looked almost metallic. They wore purple spiked boots with heels as thin as icicles. Their lipstick was blood-red, their eyes jet-black. I was transfixed, studying this being’s face as if I was staring directly into the sun.

Their face… it was my face.

“I am Gel Cologne,” the being spoke, “I come from another dimension.”

“Why do you have my face?” I asked.

“Because,” the being smiled a row of shiny porcelain teeth, “I am you.”

Gel Cologne came from Dimension DLX3, an alternate universe in which everything is purple and everyone wears leather. Other than that, it’s not too different from our own dimension.

In this dimension, I’m a pop superstar instead of a lowly file clerk. I perform mind-melting music for millions of screaming fans every single night, instead of just ordering Chinese takeout and watching The Office reruns until I fall asleep. After every show, I blast off into space on a secret intergalactic mission to conquer the Space Fascists. My songs are guaranteed to enhance the sexual libido of anyone who listens. Orgasms have increased by 110% among the general populace. I’ve improved the sex lives of millions and saved countless relationships. How useful that would have been with Anya.

“I need your help,” says Gel Cologne, “the Space Fascists have developed a technology that can destroy time and space, and turn every living being in the universe into a Ben Shapiro clone. I need you to write a song that will unite the world and cause everyone to have a massive orgy.”

“Me?” I asked, “but I’ve never written a song before.”

Gel Cologne smiled. “The music has been within you the whole time, but your body has held it hostage.”

I pondered that for a moment. “Well, there is one ditty I came up with when I first started dating Anya.”

“Forget about Anya!” Cologne bellowed. “Now is not the time to start harkening on the past. You must discover your true potential. You need to determine who you are.”

At that moment, it became clear what I needed to do. There was a secret truth about my identity that I had unconsciously buried in the three years I dated Anya. I always thought Anya completed me, but she was nothing more than a mirage, a projection of the Real Truth.

For Gel Cologne did not actually come from an alternate dimension, and I was not actually speaking to them in my living room.

I was Them. I am Them.

I am Gel Cologne, superstar musician and fighter of Space Fascism. My music bursts with sexual energy. I’m not a woman. I’m not a man. I am something that you’ll never understand.

But you can just call me Gel.

For more articles by Anonymous, click here. To get in touch with this writer, email anonymous@surrealtimes.net.

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