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A late-night host keeps performing through planetary occupation, personal grief, and the collapse of public language itself.
If you can hear my voice, you’re part of tonight’s audience.
We’ve got a remarkable show lined up for you tonight, ladies and gentlemen—possibly our last. Standards and Practices are still reviewing whether the end of the world can be broadcast live on ABC.
Thank you for being here. I’m impressed any of you made it at all. Clearing a federal decontamination tent to attend a talk show genuinely deserves a round of applause.
We do have an update tonight. The kind that permanently interrupts your regularly scheduled programming. Americans are being told to remain calm during what Homeland Security is calling—and I’m not making this up—a “Forced Planetary Occupation.”
ICE reviewed the situation and confirmed the creatures aren’t aliens. They’re native. They predate the Constitution, which legally makes them the original residents of the lower forty-eight. A historic moment.
In fact, it’s the first time ICE came into contact with someone who wasn’t white and said, “Not our jurisdiction.”
The President chimed in with a statement today, handwritten in crayon, assuring Americans the situation is exaggerated and reminding the public that nothing is real until it trends on Truth Social.
Which is bold, considering emergency broadcasts are showing live footage of them eating through a hospital wing in Phoenix.
On the bright side, doctors say the patients are in stable condition, mostly because there’s less of them left to stabilise.
A lot of people are asking the obvious question. What are these things?
The official answer is to remain calm, that this is “fake news.”
The unofficial answer is the White House hasn’t got a fucking clue, which explains why their phone number is suddenly classified.
So tonight, we’re doing something different. Instead of news stories, we’re hearing from the people on the ground. The ones this government left to fend for themselves.
Jenny is in Sarasota, Florida. She’s been inside her apartment for three days with no food or water. Her boyfriend went out for supplies and hasn’t come back.
Jenny. You’re live on the Late Night Show.
Hi. I— sorry, I’m trying not to freak out. I just didn’t want to be by myself.
I kept thinking he’d show up. He said he’d be right back, so I stayed where he told me, and I thought if I waited, he’d come back and tell me what to do like he always does.
He’s not coming back.
I think they’re—
Jenny?
We’ve lost the connection.
Apologies everyone.
We do have guests tonight. Big ones. Legends, actually. But before we bring them out, I have a personal story of my own.
My wife and my little boy were killed this morning while I was here rehearsing this monologue.
I saw it live. The notification said motion detected in the living room.
I almost muted it.
And I know we’re not special. I know this happened to families all across this city today. Across the country. Across the world. So if you’re watching this next to someone you love—
Sorry again, I’m being told to keep it moving.
Right.
We’ve apparently got two guests tonight.
I’m being told our first guest cancelled at the last minute. She’s downtown trying to broker a peace agreement between the United Nations and the species filing our eviction notice. Her publicist says negotiations were promising until they asked what date we’d like the planet vacated.
Let’s not drag this out.
You’ve been a remarkable audience tonight. Quiet. Attentive. Not a single interruption. Which is impressive for a live crowd. Usually, you get a heckler—a cough. A phone going off. Someone who shouldn’t legally be inside the building.
Tonight. It’s just you.
You’ve been watching me like you’re waiting for permission.
I won’t keep you.
The truth is—we cancelled the tickets hours ago. It didn’t seem fair to invite people to a show we knew you couldn’t resist.
Security told me not to make eye contact. They said it provokes you. Unfortunately, that’s how a host proves he’s in charge.
So I’m going to keep looking at you.
No matter how rough it gets.
I owe my family that much.
My boy didn’t get that choice.
I’ve been cancelled before.
You’re just louder about it.
There you are.
Right on cue.
Please welcome our final guest—
—Oh.
END OF BROADCAST.
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