Free How I Stole Johnny Depp's Alien Girlfriend by Gary Ghislain Page A

political thing? Or is it just to become famous? It’s sort of brilliant, in a very dumb way.”
    She laughs again and sits down on the sofa. “Do you do any special tricks? Like some cool space kung fu?”
    Malou demonstrates what she means by thrashing her arms around and splattering caviar all over the perfectly white sofa. I run to the kitchen to get a dishcloth. When I’m back, ready tosave the sofa, Zelda isn’t demonstrating any space kung fu. She’s standing over Malou, staring into her eyes, her hand pressing hard on Malou’s shoulder. “I will hurt you. Talk!”
    â€œWhy do you want to meet him?”
    â€œHe’s my chosen one. He belongs with me.”
    I wish Zelda would make up something else.
    â€œJohnny Depp and you, huh?” Malou drops the spoon in the caviar and the caviar pot on the coffee table. She looks up at Zelda and pushes her hand off her shoulder. “I’m sorry, darling, I don’t think you’re his type.”
    â€œGET HER OFF ME!”
    It’s that Vahalalian short temper again. Zelda’s sitting on top of Malou on the floor, but instead of singing her a cute intergalactic lullaby, she’s holding her down by the throat.
    I don’t blame her. Malou can really get on your nerves.
    â€œTell. Me. Where. To. Find. Him!” Zelda says, banging Malou’s head on the carpet: Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
    â€œDa. Vid. Help. Me!”
    Forget about Zelda forbidding me to ever touch her again. I grab her by the shoulders and pull as hard as I can. “Zelda! Stop! She’s practically my sister!”
    She stops strangling Malou to push me away. “Don’t interfere, Pudin. This is standard Vahalalian interrogation protocol.”
    â€œTHIS GIRL IS NUTS!” Malou screams, once she can breathe again. “Tell her to get off me!”
    Malou searches for something in the pocket of the top layer of her many skirts. A knife? A gun? A picture of an ex-boyfriend?
    Pepper spray! She points it at Zelda’s face. “Slap me one more time, and I’ll—”
    Zelda slaps her hard across the face. Which is another lessonlearned: Never challenge a Vahalalian.
    Malou closes her eyes and triggers the spray. Nothing happens. It’s empty.
    â€œShit! Asshole!” Malou shakes it, trying to squeeze out a last drop. “The guy I stole it from said it was full. You can’t trust anyone!”
    Zelda snatches the spray and throws it to me. She grabs Malou’s hands. “I will crush every single bone in these hands unless you tell me where to find my chosen one.”
    â€œYou can torture me all you want, bikini girl. I will never give the address, phone number, or any embarrassing physical details of any of my celebrity friends. Not for all the money in the world.”
    â€œWhat about nine hundred fifty-two euros?” I ask, squatting beside her.
    She turns to me. “What did you just say, Tadpole?”
    â€œIt’s all my savings—nine hundred fifty-two euros. All yours if you tell us where to find him.”
    â€œDeal!”
    â€œWhat am I buying exactly?” I ask.
    We’re sitting in my bedroom, negotiating around bottles of diet ginger ale.
    â€œFor this kind of money, I’ll deliver him to you. Packed, cleaned, and ready to go. You can do whatever you want with him.” She’s about to drink some ginger ale. She stops, looking at me sideways again, like she’s having second thoughts. “By the way, what are you going to do with him? You’re not going to harm him, are you?”
    â€œNo, nobody’s going to get hurt. Right?”
    Zelda shrugs, like, I don’t know yet. “I don’t trust her, dwarf.”
    â€œDwarf?” Malou laughs her head off. “And you give me shit for calling you Frog.”
    Sigh.
    â€œDo we have a deal, then?” I ask.
    â€œNope. No money, no deal.”
    â€œIt’s in the bank, in my