This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/GermanSchanzeler on 2024-09-28 14:25:29+00:00.

In a remote corner of the Milky Way, the Council of Galactic Superiority was holding an emergency meeting. The Zorblats, a highly intelligent and somewhat pompous alien species known for their immense technology and general disdain for any species less than ten feet tall, had intercepted transmissions from a small, unassuming planet: Earth.

“What are we dealing with here?” Commander Gloopak sneered, his six eyes narrowing at the hologram of Earth floating in the middle of the council chamber. “Surely this can’t be worth our time.”

“They call themselves ‘humans,’ Commander,” responded Zilbor, the council’s chief intelligence officer, whose job it was to study primitive species so advanced beings could mock them properly. “Bipedal, only two arms, they sweat profusely, and their communication system appears to revolve around endless pictures of cats.”

The council snickered. Cats? Really? This would be too easy.

“We’ve reviewed their culture,” Zilbor continued, struggling to maintain composure, “and found that they are obsessed with… things like toasted bread popping out of metal boxes, inserting cylindrical pastries into their faces, and something called ‘reality television,’ which we assume is a form of punishment.”

Gloopak waved a dismissive tentacle. “Pathetic. I doubt they’ve even mastered quantum harmonics.”

“They haven’t mastered the metric system,” Zilbor confirmed.

The council erupted in laughter. Gloopak raised a hand, silencing the room. “Enough. We’ll invade tomorrow. Prepare the fleet, and bring plenty of containment pods. I don’t want them scattering into their ‘suburban developments.’”

The next day, Earth’s skies darkened as an enormous fleet of Zorblat ships descended. Humans looked up, confused, half-thinking it might be a new superhero movie or an elaborate marketing stunt. The aliens landed in Washington, D.C., New York, and, for some reason, Milwaukee.

Gloopak himself led the charge, stepping out onto a wide field where humans had gathered with their cell phones held high, documenting the invasion like it was a concert. A crowd stood in front of him, unimpressed and still waiting for the “real show” to begin.

“Humans!” Gloopak bellowed through his translator. “Surrender immediately, and you will be spared! We have superior technology, incredible intellect, and absolutely zero tolerance for your… toaster obsession!”

A long pause. The humans murmured amongst themselves.

Finally, a middle-aged man in a baseball cap stepped forward. “Uh, yeah, what do you want?”

Gloopak glared. “What do we want? We want your planet, your resources, and all of your frozen yogurt! Surrender, or face annihilation!”

“Is this a prank?” the man asked, scratching his head. “You guys from Comic-Con or something?”

Gloopak’s tentacles twitched in confusion. “No, we are from the Andromeda Cluster!”

“Oh. So, what, you’re selling something?”

Another human chimed in. “We already have solar panels, thanks.”

Gloopak tried to regain control. “We are not selling anything! We are here to conquer your species! You will kneel before the might of Zor—"

Before he could finish, an ice cream truck pulled up, its cheerful jingle blaring. The entire human crowd immediately turned and mobbed the truck, lining up for popsicles and ice cream sandwiches, completely ignoring the six-foot-tall alien commander mid-speech.

“What… is happening?” Gloopak muttered to Zilbor, who was equally bewildered.

“They appear to be… distracted by frozen dairy products.”

Gloopak, feeling a bit flustered now, tried again. “Your pathetic treats are meaningless! We are the superior race, and we—"

A woman from the crowd called out, “Hey, if you want to cut in line, you gotta pay. Cash only.”

Gloopak’s tentacles trembled in frustration. “This is absurd! Zilbor, what is their weakness?”

“Well, Commander,” Zilbor stammered, consulting his clipboard, “according to our research, they are particularly vulnerable to Mondays, deadlines, and running out of coffee.”

“Coffee?!” Gloopak screamed. “They run on liquids?!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then seize all their coffee at once!” Gloopak commanded.

Zilbor snapped his fingers, and a squad of Zorblat soldiers quickly entered the nearest coffee shop. They emerged moments later, but instead of the victorious cheers Gloopak expected, the soldiers were carrying several Starbucks cups, their hands trembling.

One soldier whispered, “I don’t know what a ‘double macchiato’ is, sir, but it’s… very strong. I think it changed me.”

As the invasion continued, the Zorblats found themselves in increasingly bizarre situations. One squad accidentally joined a yoga class and, after several minutes, found they actually enjoyed the “downward dog” position. Another ship was lured into a shopping mall by the shiny promises of a sale at Bed Bath & Beyond. And several soldiers got sucked into a TikTok challenge involving dance moves they simply couldn’t resist attempting.

After hours of trying to get the humans to take the invasion seriously, Gloopak stood, defeated, in front of the Lincoln Memorial, where a group of teenagers was taking selfies. One turned and asked, “Hey, could you move a bit to the left? You’re photobombing us.”

It was over.

Gloopak sighed and tapped his communicator. “All Zorblat forces, return to the ships. We’re… retreating.”

“But sir, we haven’t used the plasma cannons yet,” Zilbor protested.

“What’s the point? They don’t even know we’re here. Besides, I need a coffee.”

As the fleet departed Earth’s atmosphere, Zilbor turned to Gloopak and asked, “So… what now, Commander?”

Gloopak sighed. “Next time we invade, let’s go for something less complicated. Maybe a planet with… I don’t know, fewer snack trucks.”

Back on Earth, the humans looked up as the Zorblat ships vanished into the sky. One of them shrugged. “Aliens, huh? Weird. Anyway, who’s up for karaoke?”