WTTQ CHANNEL 10 EXCLUSIVE “Astrid the Alien Catfished by a So-Called ‘Linden’”

ANCHOR DEVON (looking overly serious):
“Tonight at 10, an emotional scandal rocks Area 52. Astrid, the lavender-skinned alien with impeccable eyeliner and the patience of a cosmic monk, has been catfished.”

Krampus could be the imposter; we do not know.

DR. PARALLAX: “It was bound to happen. She’s too trusting. She believes anyone with a glowing badge is ‘official.’”

According to sources, Astrid believed she had been messaging a “Linden Liaison of Interspecies Social Integration,” who claimed: They could get her a premium parcel on Jupiter,
They were experts in alien-human romance, and they had “special permissions to boost her inventory limit to infinite.”

This last claim should have been a red flag. But Astrid has 29,000 outfits and dreams big.

The catfisher (username: TotallyRealLinden_42) sent suspicious lines such as:
“Hello, I’m from The Lab. Want to see my secret region?”
“Please give me your HUD settings so I can upgrade your cosmic experience.”
“I can turn your landing point into a wormhole.”
Astrid later admitted:
“Honestly, the wormhole part sounded legit.”

The wolves on duty sniffed the chat history and immediately declared the “Linden” to be:

“98% human, 2% nonsense, 0% official.”

One wolf added in a written statement:

“We could smell the deception. And the fear. And the microwaved lasagna.”

Astrid confessed she felt devastated, betrayed… and mildly insulted.

“They told me my avatar shape looked ‘default.’
I haven’t been this offended since the humans called my antenna earrings ‘quirky.’”

Investigators discovered that the catfisher didn’t work for the Lab at all. In fact, he worked in Second Life’s unofficial underground pillow-gacha resale market, notorious for lures, scams, and the occasional emotional support groundhog.

Astrid is now giving a TED Talk (Trans-Dimensional Extra-Dimensional Talk) titled:

“Don’t Get Catfished Across Dimensions:
Red Flags Even Aliens Shouldn’t Ignore.”
Her top tips include:
If someone says they can look inside your inventory “with their mind,” block them.
Never believe a stranger who claims the Region Restarts follows their personal schedule.
Real Lindens don’t flirt. The universe would implode.

“There Will Be NO Black Friday at the Retreat”

Residents of the Retreat woke up this morning to an official announcement from the Council of Dimensional Well-Being (and one extremely annoyed alien translator):
 “NO BLACK FRIDAY AT THE RETREAT.”

Why? Because last year’s attempt ended in:
Three wormholes caused by “doorbuster deals”.
A stampede of drunk alien-cats chasing half-priced gravity boots.
Dandy accidentally opened a portal to 1974, looking for a sale on lentils.
Anjelikka has bought a coat that contains a previous owner’s memories and refuses to return it.
Devon tries to livestream the chaos, only to get sucked into a clearance rack dimension.
And Rachel (the alien) insisted that “50% off” is a form of Earth trickery designed to summon capitalism demons.

“The Retreat is a sanctuary of calm, meditation, and questionable cosmic happenings.
We cannot risk destabilizing the timelines for discount toasters again.”

The alien wellness committee added: “If humans wish to participate in Black Friday, they may do so in Earth malls, provided they accept the risk of encountering unmasked shoppers and discounted microwaves.”

The caribou (with antennas) simply blinked twice, which experts translated as:
“Absolutely not.”
Instead of Black Friday, the Retreat will host:

Calm Friday, a quiet event involving tea, slow-floating, and no capitalism.

Dear Pixelette,

Why can’t I buy anything on Black Friday at the Retreat?
I woke up early, logged in, grabbed my Linden wallet, stretched my clicking finger, and strutted to the shops… only to find: signs that say “NO CAPITALISM TODAY,” a meditating alien-cat at the door chanting “ohmmm-but-no-sales-ohmmm,” and a caribou with antennas physically blocking the entrance like a fluffy bouncer.

One vendor told me the “fabric of consumer reality is unstable” and tried to sell me a rock instead. Another said they were “cleansing their chakras from last year’s coupon incident.”

PIXELLETTE, ALL I WANTED WAS A 50% OFF SWEATER THAT MAKES ME LOOK MILDLY MYSTERIOUS.

Is there any way to get deals here?
Or should I surrender and join Calm Friday?

Signed,
Sales-Blocked in the Stars

Dear Sales-Blocked,

First, breathe.
You cannot bargain with a caribou. Especially one wired directly to the mothership.
Here’s the truth: The Retreat does not allow Black Friday because last year, a single discounted crop-top ripped a hole in the sky big enough for three confused angels, two dimension-traveling wolves, and one very embarrassed Devon to fall through.
They still talk about that. This year, the aliens voted 13 to 2 (the two dissenting votes were from the alien-cats, who misunderstood and thought “Black Friday” meant “unlimited tuna”).

Your options now are:
Join Calm Friday
Drink tea. Float. Pretend you never loved coupons. Go to Area 52's Gacha Store.
Attempt to negotiate with the caribou. Good luck. They are immune to charm and coupons.
Wait until “Slightly Discounted Tuesday”
It’s the Retreat’s compromise holiday. Things are 7% off. No one knows why.
Let Anjelikka dress you. She doesn’t do discounts, but she does do destiny.

In any case, the universe has spoken:
No sweater is worth tearing open a rift again.

Luminously yours,
Pixelette

“ARE YOU SERIOUS? COVID HAS HIT AREA 52”

Filed by Trenton Glass, who is definitely wearing two masks and possibly a hazmat poncho.

Earlier today, health officials at Area 52 confirmed that COVID-19 has somehow, impossibly, reached the alien compound.
This immediately raised several questions: Can aliens even get Covid? Did the virus hitch a ride on someone’s teleport script? Who coughed in the wrong direction?
The answers are:
Yes, Maybe, and Devon. Probably Devon. We will just blame him anyway. Read about his rise to fame.

Reports from the Hangar Clinic describe alien patients experiencing:
Color shifts (green → teal → “distressed mauve”)
Random gravity fluctuations
Telepathic sneezing (which feels like someone yelling “ACHOO” inside your spine)
A strong craving for applesauce
One alien reportedly whispered, “My aura feels stuffy.”

Lockdown Measures

Area 52 has now been enacted:
Hovercraft distancing all ships must float 6 meters apart
Mandatory mask fields forcefields that smell faintly of lavender
No more communal saucer buffets
All mind-meld sessions postponed
Cats (alien or otherwise) must wear tiny face shields

Dandy attempted to make lentil soup for everyone, but the steam set off the hangar's biohazard alarms. Again.

Anjelikka:
“ABSOLUTELY NOT. I didn’t survive three timelines and fifteen bad teleport scripts to catch alien-Covid.” (In real life, Anjelikka has a bad case of Covid right now, send your well wishes via Discord or in the comments)
Rachel (the alien): “This is why we shouldn’t have shared straws with the caribou.”
Trenton: “I told you letting them lick the handrails was a bad idea.”

Good News?
Dr. Parallax claims the alien immune system works like a 1990s fax machine:
slow, loud, but eventually functional.
He also reports the virus appears less severe in extraterrestrial physiology, causing mostly:
Mild glowing
Temporary floating
Excessive politeness

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.”

“Lanterns Beyond the Stars: Area 52 Hosts Its First Laternenfest”

Filed by Rachel Orbit, Cultural Correspondent

“As autumn deepens and the last pumpkin lights flicker out, the aliens at Area 52 have discovered a new Earth tradition that glows with promise: Laternenfest. But in true Area 52 fashion, it’s not just about lanterns… It’s about light, frequency, and questionable fire safety.”

The aliens have lined the dusty walkways with softly humming lanterns that float a few centimeters above ground, fueled not by candles but by bioluminescent plasma orbs harvested from friendly jelly beings under Moonshadow Motors.

Children, humans, and extraterrestrials alike carry paper lanterns shaped like stars, rockets, and suspiciously well-rendered cats.

Anjelikka, dressed in a silver coat trimmed with white light ribbons, declares:

“We wanted to learn something warm from Earth. Lanterns are memories that don’t usually explode.”

Instead of singing traditional songs, participants hum in harmonic waves. The sound resonates across the desert, syncing faintly with the static hum of the Area 52 towers.
When the notes align, the sky briefly turns violet and gold, a gentle echo of The Violet Sky Phenomenon from earlier transmissions.

At the center of the celebration, Dandy ladles steaming Lentil & Starlight Soup for guests, explaining solemnly,
“Every lantern represents a story… and maybe a misplaced spoon.”

DR. PARALLAX COMMENT: “Humans call it Laternenfest. We call it The Gathering of Gentle Photons. It’s a reminder that even light enjoys a party.”

As the night ends, alien-cats chase drifting lanterns into the dunes, tails glowing faintly like comets.

Lanterns rise where the night winds play,
Little lights drift far away.
Through desert hush and silver hue,
They float with wishes old and new.

The aliens hum a soft refrain,
A melody from another plane.
Their lanterns shimmer, green and gold,
With stories Earth has never told.

Anjelikka smiles, her lantern bright,
Guiding hope into the night.
Across two worlds, the glow rings true

Get your FREE lantern at Area 52.

“Laternenfest at Area 52, where even the stars carry candles.”

Why Winter Is Too Harsh for Aliens (“Save an alien. Buy a gacha.”)

They completely misunderstood snow. They arrived thinking fluffy white stuff = marshmallows → delicious! Then they touched it… "Marshmallow is cold. Marshmallow hurts. Marshmallow… lies.”
Now they glare suspiciously at every bag of Jet-Puffed.

Their bodies are made for warmer galaxies. Their home planet’s average temperature: 78°F, year-round.
“WHY IS YOUR AIR TRYING TO FREEZE OUR JUICES?!”
They tried to fix the cold problem by wearing:
pool floaties
bathroom towels
plastic grocery bags as boots

They learned two things:

These are not clothes. Humans laugh way too easily.

Every time it snows, they shriek:

“The sky is shedding frozen dandruff! TAKE COVER!”

Area 52 now has a “No Screaming at the Weather” rule.

Hot chocolate is… confusing
They thought marshmallows had finally returned with a warm attitude. Then they melted. Cue alien trauma.

The Winter Survival Plan:
Sell more gachas = buy thick Earth sweaters
Create fake marshmallow snow: edible AND warm
Petition humans to move Earth closer to the sun
Capture a space heater (or three)

UFOh My Gacha Store — Season of Giving Deals! 

The aliens have scanned Marketplace prices… and laughed. Why pay more out there when the best steals are at Area 52?
Gachas from 5L to 500L
New cosmic crates arriving throughout the season
Collect the Weird. Trade the Wonderful.

Be kind. Be curious. Be abducted by bargains.
Fly to Area 52 and grab gifts before they vanish into the void!

“Save an alien. Buy a gacha.”

“Aliens Open a Gacha Store to Fund Winter Clothes”

Filed by: Casey (returned from fragment backup) AKA Marksmallow Man
Broadcast Status: Cozy, financially responsible

Casey (on-air, with a mug of suspiciously glowing cocoa):

The Aliens, still recovering from last week’s ‘marshmallow incident’ that ended up being… snow, have opened their very first HUMAN-APPROVED business!”

“Temperatures are dropping across the cosmos, and aliens at Area 52 are experiencing, believe it or not, their first winter chill. Their solution? A brand-new UFOh my Gacha Store, raising funds for essential seasonal needs: thermal void-parkas, anti-gravity mittens, scarves that purr (yes, those ones require feeding)”

Anjelikka, Fashion Commander: “Darling, winter is just a poorly dressed season. We’re here to fix that.”
She is also asking that no one attempt to scan the coats again. Alfred multiplied again.

You will find all sorts of things here in the store. Some from faraway places in the galaxy, others from a thrift store down the street. Of course, there are holiday items; the aliens have no use for those, but we know you love to decorate. The prices are cheap if you compare them to the marketplace. 

“Collect the Weird. Trade the Wonderful!
Dr. Parallax: “Warm aliens are happy aliens. Happy aliens abduct fewer tourists. We consider this a win-win.”

Alien-cats tending the register, stuffing scarves into shopping bags while knocking every eighth item onto the floor on purpose.

“Buy more. Winter is coming. And we have… many necks.

“Marshmallow Crap” Turns Out to Be… SNOW?!

Aliens, unprepared, begin dramatic complaining

When the sugary explosion cleared and scientists realized the fluffy white fallout was just snow, panic at Area 52 took a new form:
Not edible
Not warm
Falling aggressively from the sky

The aliens, who thought Earth clouds simply wept whipped cream when upset, were caught off guard.
Field Interview: K’phlaag, Alien Tourist
How are you handling the cold?
K’phlaag: Badly! My species has one temperature setting: cozy.
Why does the sky freeze and attack you!? Do humans not resent this?

Dr. Parallax issued blankets and thermal socks. Rachel tried to teach the aliens how to make hot cocoa. One alien attempted to hibernate inside the jukebox

Alien Reactions to Snow: “AHHHH my limbs are crunchy!” “It burns… but backward!” 
Ate snow. Got mad.  Used it to build “Snowman Overlords.” Still convinced it’s marshmallows 

The cold has caused tractor beams to hiccup. UFO engines to sneeze. Abducted cows to be returned with scarves.
Quote from a confused cow:
“Moo?” (Translation: Why me again?)

⚠️ Public Advisory from the Aliens

“Please deliver hot pizzas to designated saucers. Pepperoni warms the soul.”

WTTQ SPECIAL BULLETIN “THE SWEETEST INVASION”

Filed from Monty Region: Marshmallow Containment Level: Zero

It started as a perfectly normal night at Area 52:
Lasers… aliens… a suspiciously large mascot looming at the Retreat. Then:

KABOOM.

The Stay Puff Marshmallow Man(AKA Casey) detonated like a dessert supernova, coating everything from the teleport pads to the Zero-G Pizza cart in sticky, sugary fluff. Marshmallow Crap!!!

White puffs drifted like snow. Buildings wore frosting like birthday cakes. Anjelikka’s hair? Now a meringue sculpture.

Casey, before she detonated

One alien in a tiny lab coat was overheard saying: “We assumed humans melt under heat, not… this puffy effigy.”

The sticky aftermath caused:
spontaneous s’mores pop-ups
increased laughter
minimum one UFO temporarily stuck to the pavement
42 angry boots glued in place
Marshmallow in jet thrusters
Rachel’s coffee machine now dispenses hot cocoa only

“This white matter is pleasant. But we request it not explode again without warning. Also, please bring crackers.”

So yes, the aliens kinda love it.
But they’re also somewhat concerned that Earth keeps exploding its mascots.

The Great Marshmallow Incident

Interview Subject: Dr. Plibnax Wobbleflorp
Position: Head of Extraterrestrial Culinary Sciences
Species: “Undefined, but adorable” (editorial note)

Reporter (R): Thank you for speaking with us, Dr. Wobbleflorp. First question: What exactly did you think exploded over Area 52?
Dr. Wobbleflorp (DW): We detected a large bipedal sugar construct. Soft exterior. Smile that felt… threatening.
R: Was there panic?

Is this Dr. Wobbleflorp?

DW: Only among those wearing fur.
Sticky fur causes emotional collapse.
R: Humans reacted with surprise and mild delight. How did your people react?
DW: My assistant licked the air.
Several times.
We encouraged this scientific curiosity until his face stuck to the pavement.

R: I see.
DW: He is still there.
R: Is a marshmallow considered a weapon in your world?
DW: Yes. A delicious one. But highly destabilizing.
R: Destabilizing?
DW: Sugar levels skyrocketed. Diplomats became uncomfortably energetic. One of them attempted to hug a security orb. It did not go well.
R: There were s’mores stands popping up. Did you try one?
DW: We sampled. We analyzed. We experienced… what you call… “campfire joy.” It made our hearts wiggle.
R: Final question: Should Earth expect future Marshmallow Men invasions?
DW: If humans continue summoning dessert giants without proper safety protocol? Absolutely. But we will be ready. We now keep giant crackers on standby.
R: Thank you, Dr. Wobbleflorp. Any final message to the human public?
DW: Yes. “Do not anger the confectionery gods.” And please send more chocolate.

WTTQ SPECIAL REPORT “THE ABDUCTION WAS COMPLETE”

Filed by Reine Solera | Monty Region | Unauthorized Transmission

SILENCE. THEN A HUM. THEN NOTHING.
That’s what the witnesses say.

One moment, the dance floor at Area 52 was pulsing beneath green lights and Zero-G Pizza crumbs. The next, a blinding flash from above, a circular void swallowing sound, sight, and sense.

And now? The landing zone is emptier than a server restart.
Dr.Parallax: gone
Anjelikka’s microphone: still warm
Costumes scattered, like shells after a molt
A lone UFO gift card hovering midair, abandoned

The Abduction Halloween Party wasn’t just themed, it was an experiment… successfully executed. A human thank you to all the venues that participated in this by supplying gifts and humor. Thank you to the DJs and live singer "Devon" for providing a ton of intergalactic music throughout the entire month of October. Dr. Parallax, the chief engineer in scripying all the UFOs, is truly a mastermind.

WTTQ intercepts suggest all abductees were transported aboard the 3"I" Atlas. The colossal craft is rumored to oversee the entire SEGI initiative. Their destination? A holding bay labeled only: REHABILITATION: FUN LEVEL 9
Not torture. Not probing. But intensive interstellar partying. Lucky them!!!

We also saw the Stay Puff Marshmallow man disintegrate right in front of our eyes, and the aliens told me that this white stuff will return to Area 52. They called it Marshmallow crap; we humans call it snow. So be on the lookout for Area 52 to turn white and sticky. The aliens also told me they are now opening shop for their winter gear allowance called UFOh my Gacha.

The aliens claim this is for everyone’s own good:
Human festival stamina must improve before contact can go public.

A GLITCHY MESSAGE WAS LEFT BEHIND
From an unknown alien voice, looping in broken English:

“Do not fear.

You danced well.

We upgrade your groove.”

Translation?
Human partying is below galactic standards.

A video was also taken about the abduction and will follow as soon as some of the earthlings get dropped off.