When considering poses, I was caught in a cycle of pop culture from my own era. During that time, one of the more famous was Vanna White, the lovely presenter and number turner from the game show Wheel of Fortune.
No hate on her for it, but that lady made a lot of money for sweeping her arms to the side and smiling.
Download your Grey Alien model STL file here.
So now the Zeta Reticulans want in. Well at least his one does. It’s all about finding meaningful work, and like a lot of greys, he is tired of hiding and wants a career in show business.
Below you will find his story as told by a computer with a marijuana habit.
Seeking fame from hiding. A grey’s story.
Stardust and Shadows: The Tale of Zix of Zeta Reticuli
Zix wasn’t your ordinary Zeta Reticulan. While his kind excelled in neural mapping, telepathic communication, and the occasional covert abduction, Zix had always been… different. His peers marveled at quantum entanglement or scoffed at the limitations of humanity, but Zix spent his spare cycles analyzing Earth’s peculiar form of magic: entertainment.
From the safety of a hidden desert bunker beneath Nevada sands, Zix devoured vintage broadcasts of Earth television. The brilliant grin of Lucille Ball, the sharp wit of Johnny Carson, and the dazzling gowns of Vanna White filled his cerebral matrix with awe. These were stars, not celestial but something more—beacons of charisma that illuminated human hearts.
More than anything, Zix wanted to be one of them.
But there was a problem. A 3’11” grey alien with an oversized cranium and glossy, unblinking eyes wasn’t exactly TV material. Earthlings, despite their odd adoration of special effects, weren’t quite ready to embrace an extraterrestrial as their next leading man. Zix had tried. Oh, how he’d tried.
Download your Grey Alien model STL file here.
First, he snuck into an open mic night in Las Vegas disguised as a “performance artist.” He slathered himself in glitter, wore sunglasses, and strutted onstage in a shiny silver jumpsuit. “What’s the deal with abductions?” he began, his voice a perfect mimicry of Jerry Seinfeld’s, courtesy of his advanced neural vocalizer. “I mean, why probe when you can just ask?”
The audience had laughed, but not in the way Zix hoped. They thought he was part of an elaborate sci-fi comedy act. Disheartened, he returned to his bunker, where his pod-mates berated him for risking exposure.
“You are an embarrassment to the mission, Zix!” hissed Narl, their leader. “We are here to study the humans, not become them.”
But Zix couldn’t let go of his dream. He began sneaking out more frequently, his disguises growing increasingly elaborate. Once, he posed as a stagehand on the set of a reality talent show, only to be caught trying to adjust the lights to highlight his own reflective skin. Another time, he infiltrated a Hollywood costume party, where someone mistook him for an avant-garde filmmaker. For a brief, glorious moment, he basked in the glow of admiration—but the illusion shattered when his oversized fingers dropped a martini glass.
Then came the turning point: Zix discovered YouTube. Here was a platform where anyone could perform, unbound by terrestrial expectations. With his advanced Zeta Reticulan technology, he built a crude humanoid exosuit, complete with a realistic latex face. He named his alter ego “Zach Richardson,” a plucky aspiring actor from Bakersfield, California.
“Zach” began uploading videos. At first, his content was awkward—alien interpretations of Earth comedy that relied heavily on slapstick and groan-worthy puns. But over time, Zix honed his craft. He studied human humor algorithms, mastered the art of jump cuts, and even collaborated with a cat influencer who turned out to be a Pleiadean in disguise.
One day, as Zix was filming a heartfelt vlog about following your dreams, a knock echoed through his bunker. He froze. Was it the Men in Black? The Galactic Council? Had his pod-mates finally had enough of his antics?
It was a delivery drone. Inside the package was a letter: You’ve been selected for a callback audition! It was for a quirky sci-fi series called Cosmic Chronicles, casting for the role of “Zorvok, the misunderstood alien trying to live among humans.”
This was it. His moment.
Zix arrived at the audition in his exosuit, heart racing—or at least, the Zeta Reticulan equivalent of a cardiovascular surge. When it was his turn, he walked onto the small stage and began his monologue. It was raw, genuine—a piece he’d written about the loneliness of hiding in plain sight. By the time he finished, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room.
The casting director leaned forward, smiling. “You’ve got something, Zach. Something… out of this world.”
Download your Grey Alien model STL file here.
Zix got the part.
The show became a cult hit, with audiences praising “Zach Richardson” for his authentic portrayal of an alien outsider. Zix reveled in the irony, his secret safe—for now. As his fame grew, he began advocating for unity between species, sneaking subtle messages of galactic harmony into his interviews. Humanity wasn’t quite ready to learn the truth, but Zix believed they would be someday.
Until then, he would shine on Earth’s screens, a star among stars, bridging the gap between worlds—one episode at a time.
