WTTQ SPECIAL REPORT “When an Alien Is Summoned for Jury Duty”

 Filed by Trenton Glass, who swears this actually happened, and honestly… it might have.

An alien at Area 52 opens their mailbox (which they installed upside-down because that “felt correct”) and finds a letter addressed to:
“Z’NARLAX OF THE FOURTH SPIRAL, a.k.a. ‘Steve’.”
Confused, the alien scans the letter and concludes it must be: a threat, a party invitation, or a test of Earth loyalty, a punchline with no joke. They attend anyway.

The alien tries to fly their ship to the courthouse. This is immediately discouraged by local authorities. They attempt to park it in a normal parking spot. It hovers. It hums. It causes 12 car alarms and one fainting incident.

The judge asks if any potential jurors have conflicts of interest. The alien raises a hand:
“I once mind-melded with a suspect species in 2004.” The courtroom becomes very, very quiet. The alien clarifies: “Also, I cannot promise I won’t read everyone’s thoughts. It is a reflex. Like blinking.”
Dismissed.
Immediately dismissed.

The alien attempts to blend in by: Eating all the snacks, reading People Magazine with the intensity of someone studying a sacred scroll, asking strangers, “What is a Kardashian, and why is it multiplying?” People begin sitting farther away.

During orientation, the alien asks: “If the defendant lies, may I emit a corrective sound beam?”
Everyone assumes this is a joke. It is not. Later, the alien loudly whispers, “Why do humans trust their justice system?” An excellent question. Not helpful here.

The alien is officially excused from duty due to potential telepathic interference, electromagnetic interference, Social interference, and snack interference

They leave triumphantly, believing they have passed yet another Earth ritual.
They tell the other aliens at Area 52:
“I have completed Jury Duty. I am now qualified to judge all human behavior.”

PS: Nobody will judge you if you buy gifts from the UFOh my Gacha Shop.

WTTQ Channel 10 Holiday Special: Christmas Lights

“How the Aliens Interpret Earth Christmas Lights” 

(Filed by Trenton Glass, who insists this is all scientifically accurate even though it absolutely isn’t.)

Aliens believe Christmas lights are humanity’s dramatic way of saying:
“We are overwhelmed. Please send snacks.” The brighter the house, the more distressed the humans must be. Entire subdivisions look like they’re begging for intergalactic therapy.

To aliens, blinking patterns translate into short messages such as:

“Buy more presents.” “Help, my neighbor is competitive.” “The ladder is stuck. Send help.”
One alien swears a rooftop display in Sector B spelled:
“PLEASE MAKE MY FAMILY LEAVE BY 9PM.”

Aliens don’t understand inflatables.
They truly believe humans deploy giant balloon Santas as a soft defensive perimeter, guarding against Home invasion, door-to-door salespeople, and the HOA.

One alien tried to “communicate with” a 12-foot inflatable Rudolph.
The result: antler puncture, two hours of air deflation, three hours of confusion.

When aliens see an entire house glowing like a small sun, they assume humans are locked in a sacred holiday battle called “The Light-Off.” Winner: Whoever blinds the most aircraft.
Area 52 aliens tried to participate once. The power grid cried.

Aliens laugh every time they see a house with those spinning green dots.

They think humans are experimenting with beginner-level starfield tech and failing adorably. One alien said, “They’re trying so hard. Let’s clap.”

Aliens assume dangling white lights signal to predators, “Beware: we survived last winter.”
This has made at least 12 aliens deeply afraid of cul-de-sacs.

Aliens believe Christmas lights are humanity’s way of saying:

“We don’t know what we’re doing, but we’re festive about it.”

And honestly?
They respect that.

“Dear Pixelette, the Caribou Won’t Stop Following Me.”

Dear Pixelette,
The caribou at Area 52 won’t stop following me. Every time I turn around, there’s another one blinking its weird antenna-eyes at me like it knows my browser history. One of them even tried to get on the train with me. I’m starting to feel like I’m being herded. Is this normal?
-Caribou-Confused in Sector D

Dear Caribou-Confused,
First: breathe.
Second: do not make direct eye contact with the antennas. They love that.

Let’s go over a few important facts about Area 52’s caribou:

1. They’re not following you
They’re following your emotional WiFi signal. Caribou antennas pick up strong feelings like curiosity, stress, and the silent internal screaming you’ve been doing. They find it comforting like a podcast, but are confused.

2. They’re not dangerous
Unless you’re holding:
A sandwich, a map, a moral dilemma. All three attract them.

3. You may have been “Chosen”
Don’t panic, this just means they’ve decided you’re the herd’s “Designated Thinking Human.”
It’s a compliment.
…Mostly.

4. If you want them to stop following you:

Try one of the official deterrents:
Thinking about taxes, playing polka music, and mentioning you don’t like Nutella (they take offense).

5. If none of that works
Then congratulations:
You’ve been adopted by the caribou.
You now have responsibilities.
Don’t worry, they’re very low maintenance. Just don’t try to outrun them. They can teleport in short bursts. It’s a whole thing.
With antenna-friendly love,
-Pixelette

AREA 52 INTERDIMENSIONAL RAIL SERVICE

ALIEN TRAIN SCHEDULE WINTER CYCLE
“Timelines may shift due to wormhole turbulence, cosmic mood swings,
and Commander Antlerton chewing on the signal cables.” WTTQ Transit Advisory

LINE A THE VIOLET SKY EXPRESS
Route: Area 52 → The Retreat → Lunar Station B → Nebula Pier
Train Type: Ghost-Locomotive (silent, floats, occasionally hums showtunes)

Notes:
Passengers may temporarily lose gravity during tunnels 4–7.
Coffee is served, but the cup is theoretical.

LINE B THE INTERPLANETARY COMMUTER
Route: Area 52 → Mars Gate → Moonshadow Motors → SEGI Hub

Caution:
Do not pet the conductor. It looks pettable. It is not.

Dr. Parallax is trying to decide which ticket to buy.

LINE C THE TIME WOBBLE LOCAL
Route: Area 52 → The Fringe → Off-Grid Echo Vault 12 → The Loom Corridor

Estimated Travel Time:
Anywhere from 4 minutes to 9 lifetimes.
No refunds.

LINE D THE CARIBOU SHUTTLE
Route: Area 52 → Mothership Orbit (brief) → Back Again
Departures:
Whenever Commander Antlerton feels like it, it is usually signaled by glowing antlers and a triumphant snort. ( or is it the nose, we are confused with the other famous caribou who called himself Rudolf.)
Notes:
Passengers must bring snacks. This is NOT the North Pole Express, where you get hot cocoa; you do remember the marshmallow incident? 

SERVICE ALERTS
The Ghost Train may pick up passengers before they arrive at the station.

Pumpkin Pie crumbs in the cabin cause dimensional echoes; please dispose carefully.

The Wolves of Area 52 may ride without tickets (crew policy).
If you see a shimmering extra train on your left, do not board. It’s from another timeline.

Don't forget to buy your holiday gifts at the UFOh my Gacha Store with duty-free services to all the galaxies. Why shop anywhere else?

“Caribous of the Mothership: Antlers or Antennas?”

Filed by Trenton Glass, Exobiology & Unexpected Hoofed Visitors Desk

What started as a simple case of caribous being attracted to alien scents has now escalated into something far stranger:
Several of the caribous at Area 52 appear to have grown… antennas.
Not metaphorical antennas. Not holiday decorations. Not something Casey glued on “as a joke.”
Actual, faintly glowing, humming antenna-like extensions woven into their antlers.

According to Dr. Parallax (who now carries a notebook titled “Caribou Frequencies”), these antenna-antlers are: Bio-receptive, Atmospherically attuned, Mothership-compatible.

In short, the caribous can now ping the mothership the way your phone pings a cell tower.

Area 52 staff have noticed surprising changes: Improved Wi-Fi, better weather predictions, and a soothing hum that helps visitors sleep. One caribou now displays the time in its antlers
Casey calls them “Google Caribou.” Dandy calls them “Soup Sensors.”
No one knows why.

The caribous, now officially called The Antler Array, have taken over frontline defense operations. During last night’s test run, one caribou’s antlers briefly spelled the word “NOPE.”

Dr. Parallax tried to formally train the herd. This lasted 14 minutes.

The caribous took over. Instead of responding to commands, they: Shoved Dr. Parallax into a snowbank, formed a perfect defensive triangle, pointed their antennas toward a suspicious cactus, and assigned ranks among themselves (no one knows how). 

Dr. Parallax brushes off the snow or marshmallows

This makes Area 52 the only facility on Earth protected by extraterrestrial caribous with live cosmic updates. 

We know now why they can fly and why Santa has them pull his sleigh. Come on over and pet a caribou if you dare!!!

“Aliens Attract Caribous: A Seasonal Mystery at Area 52”

Filed by Trenton Glass, Paranormal Ecology Desk

The dunes outside Area 52 are now dotted with… caribous. Not holograms. Not misidentified aliens. Not runaway reindeer.
Actual, confused, northern, snow-loving caribous sniffing around the alien landing pads.
Why? Because the aliens are unintentionally broadcasting a scent frequency that caribous apparently adore.

Sweet-smelling Caribous? Or is it the aliens?

DR. PARALLAX explains: “Our atmospheric stabilizer emits trace amounts of xenoflora pollen. Caribous perceive it as the irresistible smell of cosmic lichen.”
Translation:
The aliens smell like snacks to caribous.

The aliens are thrilled.
“They are soft,” one alien commented, petting a bemused caribou.
“Also, they scream less than humans.”
A promising diplomatic beginning.

After Rachel said, trying to ride a caribou: Goodness knows I have a problem.  And the only problem is when I'm not slamming Vodka." A “Please Do Not Ride the Caribous” sign (put up after Casey tried exactly that).

A warm wind sweeps over the dunes as red and green lights flicker above the domes. The aliens have gathered outside the hangars, sipping Cosmic Cocoa and staring upward.
Suddenly, a glowing object streaks across the violet night, not a saucer this time, but a sleigh-shaped silhouette with eight very confused reindeer.

“We thought it was an invasion,” says Dr. Parallax, “until we heard the bells. No hostile intent, just merriment.”

Moments later, Santa’s voice was allegedly heard over local comms saying:
“Next stop… Mars Colony B, if the coordinates are right!”
“Ho ho ho Area 52, you’ve been... surprisingly nice!”
 

“Krampus and the Aliens: A Winter Tale from Area 52”

Broadcast live from the snow-covered desert, where the stars look a little too close for comfort…

“Good evening, listeners. As winter tightens its icy grip on the Mojave, strange hoofprints and interstellar boot tracks have appeared outside Area 52’s perimeter fence. Some say it’s a prank. Others whisper it’s a cosmic collaboration: Krampus… and the aliens.”

When Krampus Met the Cosmos

Witnesses claim a shimmering portal opened near the Basement Club during the Winter Solstice party and Laternenfest. From it emerged a towering horned figure, dragging chains that clanked in alien harmonics. The crowd froze until one alien, perhaps mistaking Krampus for a long-lost comrade from Tau Ceti, offered him a slice of meteorite pizza.

“It was beautiful,” said DJ Bun G Chord, adjusting his goth headgear. “He nodded, took the slice, and the lights dimmed like… cosmic approval.”

 Naughty List Upload

Sources close to the SEGI Project confirm that Krampus was quickly fascinated by the aliens’ technology. Reports indicate he’s begun digitizing the Naughty List by uploading names to the Area 52 mainframe. Rumor has it that those who ghosted their friends or broke group chat rules have been flagged for “galactic review.”

“It’s not punishment,” said Dr. Parallax, appearing briefly through a glowing vortex. “It’s behavioral calibration.”

Holiday Spirit, Alien Style

Instead of coal, the aliens hand out crystalline memory orbs that replay your kindest acts. They say it’s a form of moral data exchange. Krampus, however, prefers more traditional methods.
“He’s old-school,” laughed Rachel, wiping marshmallow snow off her jacket. “The aliens say he’s chaotic neutral.”

“So, whether you’ve been naughty, nice, or merely interdimensional, keep an eye on the skies and your stockings. This winter, Krampus and the aliens are collaborating for the greater good... or at least, for the better party.”