I was born in the time of the Pharoah Khufu.
I watched the pyramids being built.
Aliens were not involved but they did visit the following year, and the neighborhood went to pot. Not the type the hippies use, just in general.

I knew Hemmingway, as we hung in the same crowd, being writers and all.
He drank a bit, but he was fun at parties.

Mark Twain got me into the writing gig.
He said I bugged him, so he gave me some paper and a quill and told me to go over in the corner and come up with an idea for his next best seller.
It was the best of times and the worst of times.

I came up with an idea about a princess in a galaxy far, far away who meets a short guy in a tin can suit that can swivel, and a really big hairy giant and a cute pilot.
They all go off and try to put an end to this dark Lord guy, Darth something or other. (I don't do character names).

Twain said it would never sell and went on to write a ghost story about his old friend, Jacob Marley.

I think he was wrong on that story idea, but I guess we'll never know.