This was either the loudest kush George had ever smoked, or an alien that looked like a human skeleton was really fucking enthusiastic about the egg it had just pilfered from his fridge.
"And the shape!" it rattled on, in a surprisingly smooth voice, "It's marvelous!" it scraped its bone fingers over the egg, rotating it. "And you can buy these by the dozen?!"
"...Bruh. Let's backtrack. Am I tripping or did you land in my backyard in a flying saucer, materialize ito a skeleton underneath it, walk into my house, steal an egg from my fridge, and stand there waxing poetic about it?"
"Seems correct," the skeleton alien confirmed.
"Why do you look like a skeleton?"
"They said i could be anything, so I decided to be spooky. Is that not the custom in the month of Halloween?" the skelton alien sounded legitimately confused.
"The month of... I think you mean October? I don't know man but Halloween is only one day and it's tomorrow."
A pen and small notepad appeared in the hands of the bizarre creature. He jotted down George's words exactly, in a manner inexplicably fast of its calligraphy-like handwriting. Just as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared. "Am I not in proper attire then?" it chuckled, a simultaneously warming and bone-chilling sound "Oh silly me, I'm naked." It snapped its fingers, George blinked, and suddenly the alien was still a skeleton, but was now also dressed in a black three piece suit, and atop its head rested a black top hat. "I trust this is formal enough for a first meeting?"
It was just beginning to dawn on George that this was a monumental moment for humanity. "Wait here," George went down the kitchen steps to his basement, returning with a long, skinny joint. He pulled out his lighter, a steel windproof butane torch. "A celebration is in order!" he exclaimed and chuckled as he lit it. "Aliens have arrived, and they're chill as fuck." He took two huge hits and absentmindedly handed it to the skeleton alien. "Oh damn, you don't have lungs."
It stood still for a few moments, then said, "Tis no matter, as the collective mind tells me I would feel its effects anyways, what with this simply being a projection so your mind can comprehend me. Let's get lit." It took the joint and placed it between the sets of perfect teeth coming off its upper and lower jaw, took two impossibly long puffs, and handed it back. "Nice," the skeleton alien commented as smoke trailed from its nostrils.
"Bruh," George puffed twice and passed. When they smoked it to the roach, he pocketed it. He pondered his door for a minute, then urged, "Follow me." He led it to the basement.
The basement was dimly lit with all the colors of the rainbow, owing this to the rainbow christmas lights on every spot of the ceiling. He turned to look at the skeleton alien's face. Thick white smoke swirled in beautiful, intricate designs he could see through its eye sockets, and thin wisps occaisonally gusted out of said sockets. He was surprised when the skeleton alien spoke, "Damn son, that's some hella nice lighting." Though the walls were bare, they glowed with the radiance of the Christmas lights. Lining the walls were floral patterned couches in varying but generally good repair.
In the center of the couches was a large, square coffee table, and in the center of this, a record player sat with a record already in. "How ya feelin'?" The skeleton alien had been standing still, smoke pouring from its face, colors dancing in the shifting clouds.
"Brrruuuhhh," it drew out unintentionally, taking in the sight of the room.
"Aw shit son, skelebro's blazed. Take a seat, I'll be back with munchies," he instructed, guiding his most skeletal bro to a couch and walking up to his kitchen.