WTTQ Breaking Report: “Garbage in the Heavens”

Transmission #015: “The Sky as a Wardrobe”
Filed by: Raine Solara
Location: Retreat Sector Sky Deck
Status: Distorted. Annotated.

“Viewers, tonight we bring you unsettling news from the skies above the Retreat. Reports confirm that orbital debris, soda cans, half-broken hoverboards, and an alarming number of abandoned gachas have drifted into the violet corridors used by our extraterrestrial neighbors.

This is what a clean sky looks like

The aliens, usually tolerant of human quirks, are furious. To them, the Retreat’s sky is a sacred broadcast lattice, a woven field of signals. And now? It looks like a yard sale gone wrong. They thought the sky was infinite. An open dome no one could stain. But now? It looks like a bargain bin.”

ANJELIKKA: “I told them. The sky is not scenery. It’s fabric. And right now, you’ve hung cheap rags over my mirror. Wardrobes are supposed to elevate. Not degrade. If you throw your waste into the heavens, don’t call it sky. Call it vanity undone. ”

DR. PARALLAX: “This is not mere litter. Each object bends their communication streams, creating echoes. Last night, a single pair of socks caused five duplicate messages and one accidental marriage proposal to a star cluster.”    

CASEY: “Okay, I’ll admit it, we thought tossing those empty soup cans upward was harmless fun. But now… the aliens are demanding recycling ceremonies before they’ll send us any more postcards.

“CLEAN YOUR SKY. RESPECT THE SIGNAL.”

WTTQ: Where the Truth Takes a Bite

WTTQ Breaking Broadcast

“Good evening, truth-seekers. Tonight, we bring you an exclusive slice of revelation hot from Area 52. Why, of all Earth’s culinary creations, do aliens keep coming back for pizza? 

The answer may surprise you.
“Listeners, buckle in because we peel back the melted layers of a mystery as old as the first pizza oven. 

Why do aliens love pizza? The truth is saucier than you think.

According to sources close to the SEGI Project, extraterrestrial visitors have declared pizza the closest Earth food to intergalactic cuisine. Its round shape reminds them of planetary cycles. Its toppings mimic layered star maps. And the cheese? They call it ‘liquid starlight’ once it melts.

Reports from Monty Region confirm that extraterrestrials have been spotted loitering near pizza parlors, scanning delivery boxes, even slipping cryptic tips to drivers like, ‘Extra mushrooms always extra mushrooms.’

Texture & Taste: To them, the crust mimics the mineral-rich surfaces of moons they once mined. Pepperoni? They call it ‘spiced orbit coins.’ Olives? ‘The eyes of the void.’ And anchovies, believe it or not, are considered delicacies, resembling a rare spacefish from the Andromeda Deep.

Shape & Symbol: Round pizzas are sacred. They resemble planetary bodies, solar cycles, and wormhole portals. When a pie is sliced, the wedges remind them of celestial navigation charts. To share a slice is to align oneself with the map of the cosmos.

Ritual & Connection: Our simple act of gathering at a table, hands reaching for the same dish, is seen as one of humanity’s highest acts of unity. Aliens don’t just eat pizza… they celebrate it. In fact, some claim pizza is why they haven’t invaded: ‘A species that creates this,’ one alien said, ‘cannot be destroyed.’

And so, as saucers hover and rumors fly, remember: if you want to make first contact… skip the speeches. Just bring a pizza.”

But here’s the real kicker: pizza isn’t just food, it’s a ritual. Sharing a pie, gathering around the table, passing a slice, aliens see this as humanity’s most profound ceremony of unity. One insider tells us, ‘They won’t beam up until the last slice is gone.’

So if you notice a strange glow outside your local pizzeria or a saucer hovering above a delivery car, don’t panic. Just know: the universe runs on more than energy… it runs on extra cheese.”

WTTQ—Where the Sauce Meets the Stars

Episode 4: “Anjelikka’s Signature”

“Readers, the investigation takes a turn tonight. For weeks, we’ve asked: Who hung the Violet Sky? Who wove its threads? Evidence recovered from Trenton’s last transmission points to one name. A name we thought was legend. A name we feared. Anjelikka.”

Is this Anjelikka behind the mask?

“I’ve seen this signature before. On garments she designed. Dresses woven from mirrors. Masks laced with whispers. It’s the same thread, the same hand. She didn’t just create fashion; she created frameworks for it. If the sky is clothing… It’s couture. And we’re on the runway.”

DR. PARALLAX: “This is catastrophic. Anjelikka’s signature isn’t just vanity. It’s authorship. She didn’t leave her mark on the fabric; she is the fabric. Every violet thread carries a fragment of her. Which means every stitch added to human flesh is… assimilation.” Slamming a dossier on the desk: “PROJECT AEON – TERMINATED.” 

Who are they?

Inside: photos of Anjelikka’s earliest experiments. People disappearing into garments that looked suspiciously like sky.

ANJELIKKA (hiding her accent): “Darling, you asked me to dress the world. So I did. Now the sky wears you.”

Draxtor: You are so strange, Anjelikka.

In the meantime, the aliens are preparing to clear the field for a landing coming soon.

“She isn’t gone. She isn’t hiding. She’s tailoring the heavens. And we’re all in her collection.”

Violet static forms a runway. Models without faces walk into infinity. One turns. It is Raine Solara doubled, mirrored, stitched at the seams.

Final crawl:

“You don’t wear Anjelikka. She wears you.”

Episode 3: “Trenton’s Train Through the Loom”

“Tonight, the Violet Sky stretches further. Beyond Area 52. Beyond what we thought were the limits of air and earth. Trenton Glass has boarded the ghost train again, and this time, he says the tracks run straight into the loom itself.”

Is the ghost train engine 229?

TRENTON GLASS: “The tunnels aren’t made of stone anymore. They’re woven. Fabric walls, shimmering with threads of time. Each stitch is a year. Each seam… a life.”

FIELD REPORTER: “I can see them, Trenton. Faces in the fabric. Passengers stitched into the walls, still breathing. They watch as we pass. She’s dealing futures like they’re currency. And one card… It’s blank. She keeps it close, as if saving it for us.”

DR. PARALLAX (studio, analyzing signal): “This confirms it.

The Violet Sky is no mere phenomenon. It’s a transit system. The ghost train isn’t riding through our world anymore; it’s riding through the threads that stitch realities together. But if you’re stitched once… You may not come back whole.”

TRENTON GLASS (final log, voice breaking): “I saw my reflection in the window. But it wasn’t me. It was… the suit I never wore, grinning back. If this train reaches the end of the thread,....... ” (signal cuts out)

Voice says: “The Violet Sky doesn’t just hang above us. It carries us inside it. 

And if Trenton’s train is right, we’re all passengers now.”

“When the track runs out, the needle waits.”

Segment: “Nutella vs. Peanut Butter: What Do Aliens Really Prefer?”

WTTQ Channel 10 Consumer Watch

Raine Solera:
“Welcome back, viewers. We all know humans have long fought the pantry war: Nutella versus peanut butter. But what about the extraterrestrial palate? Our team has taste-tested with the galaxy’s most reluctant food critics, the aliens of Area 52.”

Stop right here!!!

Anjelikka: "It’s not even close. Nutella had the aliens glowing with excitement. One saucer captain described it as ‘liquid velvet for the neurons.’ In fact, several attempted to barter three wormhole coordinates just for a spoonful.”

Alien-cats pawing at a Nutella jar, tails flicking wildly. 

Caption: “Observed Behavior: Purring at 432 Hz.” 

Rachel: “But peanut butter? That’s where things get… sticky. Literally. The moment they tried it, one alien declared, ‘This is mouth cement. Why would humans worship this adhesive?’ Another attempted to use it as thermal paste for their spacecraft. Reports indicate engine failure.”

...and there goes a jar into the mothership.

DR. PARALLAX (serious tone):

“Let me be clear. Peanut butter may divide humans, but for aliens, it’s a universal rejection. Its molecular density disrupts their psychic taste receptors. Nutella, on the other hand, amplifies them. That makes it more than food. It’s… a stimulant.”

“So there you have it, folks. If you want to make friends with aliens, hide the peanut butter, stockpile the Nutella, and maybe lock your cupboards. Because once they’ve tasted it, they don’t ask. They take.”

“Spread wisely.”

Where did the aliens hide that Nutella?

“ALIENS HONOR THE MEMORY OF 9/11”

WTTQ SPECIAL REPORT

“Good evening. Tonight, we step away from speculation and confront something deeper, remembrance. Sources at Area 52 report that the aliens themselves, in their strange but unmistakable ways, honored the memory of 9/11.

It was not through speeches or flags. It was through silence. Eyewitnesses describe how, during a gathering under the purple skies, the aliens simply… stopped. Their movements froze, their luminous eyes dimmed, and for several minutes, they stood with humans in quiet unity.”

“One visitor to the Retreat told me the moment felt as if time itself bent around the memory of that day. The aliens seemed to hold space for our grief, almost as though they recognized the scar it left on humanity.

Witnesses recall hearing three tones reverberate in the air, low, resonant notes that some described as a cosmic bell tolling for the fallen.”

Please read the story of "John", my personal experience with 9/11.

“Perhaps this is proof of something many have quietly hoped: that even across galaxies, tragedy resonates. That the sorrow we carry is not unnoticed, not forgotten, even by those not of this world.

Here at Area 52, we also observe that moment of silence. In memory. In unity. In hope.”

From the aliens:

"Tonight, our rituals commence. The flame-spiral dancers will lift trails of smoke into the violet sky. The shard-bearers will exchange fragments of melted glass, symbols of fragility. And we will hum The Long Pause, the frequency of silence that swept your world after the collapse.
We admit we do not understand. We are absurd in our attempts. We confuse ritual with reality, symbol with sorrow. Yet we persist, because to forget is to erase, and erasure is a cruelty.
So we speak to you, humans who survived, humans who mourn:
You are not alone in your remembering.

Even in Area 52, among the watchers and the wanderers, we hum your silence. 

We breathe your grief. 

We honor your resilience."

This is WTTQ, Area 52 signing off in memory.”

WTTQ AREA 52 BREAKING NEWS

Chaotic static. A deep hum. The broadcast cuts in.

“Ladies, gentlemen, terrestrials, and otherwise, stop what you are doing. We have breaking news from the tarmac at Area 52.

Where is the manager?

In what can only be described as the boldest and perhaps most absurd civilian interception of extraterrestrial property, a woman identified only as Phillies Karen has taken the UFO.

Eyewitness reports confirm she marched straight across the security perimeter, wielding nothing but a foam finger, a half-finished cheesesteak, and an iron will. Security drones tried to intervene, but she shouted, quote, ‘I want to speak to the mothership manager!’ The aliens, unfamiliar with this tone of human authority, immediately backed down.

"Give me the UFO, the train, the sim. It is mine!!!"

She then boarded the craft, adjusted the driver’s seat with uncanny confidence, and listeners, we can hardly believe this she lifted off. The UFO responded as if it had always been hers.

The aliens remain in shock, circling each other in confused spirals, muttering about ‘customer service protocols.’ Meanwhile, Phillies Karen is now streaking across the Nevada sky, leaving behind only echoes of her demand for a refund.

This is my UFO, I had it first.

We will continue to monitor this unprecedented event. For now, the only certainty is this: at Area 52, the impossible has once again become the evening news.

This is WTTQ, signing off, though whether our skies are still ours is anyone’s guess.”

The transmission ends with static and faint chewing sounds, possibly from the cheesesteak.

A solemn drone. Holographic glyphs swirl, translated into English with only partial accuracy.

ALIEN SPOKESBEING:
“Attention, humans. We of the Fifth Spiral Compact issue this communiqué regarding the unauthorized acquisition of our Interstellar Conveyance, Unit 7B—known to you as ‘the UFO.’

We acknowledge the actions of the entity you refer to as Phillies Karen. Her demand to ‘speak with the mothership manager’ bypassed all of our negotiation protocols. We had no defense prepared for such audacity.

Let it be known:
She consumed the captain’s seat warmer controls as if they were nachos.
She renamed our navigation AI to ‘Kyle.’
She reprogrammed the warp drive to broadcast baseball radio commentary across three galaxies.

This behavior is unacceptable, illogical, and yet… strangely effective.

We will not retaliate. Instead, we file an official complaint—a thing we have only recently learned to do from your internet forums. We demand either the immediate return of our vessel… or season tickets behind home plate at Citizens Bank Park.

Until then, we remain grounded, embarrassed, and forced to share one shuttle pod for six beings. We hum The Long Pause in shame.