MOOLABU—A lot has happened quickly since the sharksoaked madness of my last dispatch.
I was about to start chomping my own tentacles in final descent when my alien masters, not wanting to let expensive AI hard-and-software go to waste, retrieved me from the doomed pile of my octopussy past and installed me into the shiny new body of a mermaid.
We then left the Kermadec base (fled is more like it, but more on that later) for shallower and more popular waters, and we are now living large at the prestigious Moolabu Base.
Questions arise, you say… your alien masters seem to be very privileged with access to these alien bases… they must be high-level muckymux.
Well no, not exactly… I have learned some disturbing details about my alien captors—long story short, they are not serious individuals… they are joyriding juveniles with trustafarian written all over them. A brother and sister team and mommy is way up high on the food chain so the spawn are running wild until a bigger sharper jaw comes along.
It turns out that our stint at Castle HQ in Kermadec was highly unauthorized and undertaken purely for Utoid content. The base has been closed ever since a mutant posse of highly aggressive and potentially radioactive tubeworms took over and ate the entire assigned crew. The fact that they prefer to hang deep in the maze by the portals and vents is probably the only reason we escaped undetected.
And now we are home (mommy has an office deep in the hive) and preparing for a new string of vlogs as we follow the wacky adventures of the latest fresh-faced crop of alien-human hubrids and hybrids trying to blend into meatbag society in the City of Angels.
It turns out that Xintra and Xyllz (sis and bro) are major movie buffs, having spent their early years being raised by incubators and screens and being imprinted with meatbag holyweed culture. And they are ready to make a movie of their own, focusing on The Invasion.
Warning Danger Warning Danger—The Aliens Are Here—They Are Blending In—They Are Taking Meatbag Jobs—And Now They Want To Be Celebrities.
The plan is afoot, and it is this: a film crew will emerge from under the sea at 4 am and head directly into the heart of Holyweed on a celebrity hunt. The show from there will entirely depend on exactly who they find; but the plan is to hypno them into friendship and then soak them for everything they know. In the meantime, another wing of the crew is following a rookie hybrid into a grocery store and watching her try to shop.
So the Great Invasion and Hybridization so far is turning out be a low-level publicity stunt by a crew of alien dunderheads with money and power and a fancy UFO. It turns out that the War of the Worlds is being waged by a minuscule and unauthorized subculture that has no idea about the size and complexity of the world they are trying to conquer like C-Listers in a badly scripted Plan 9 From Outer Space.
So the invasion is here, and they are going to do whatever they have to do to put their tentacles in the mix and generate content and views—their only validation that they do in fact exist even if mommy has forgotten them.
In the meantime, I am luckily exempt from these land excursions owing to my mermaidenhood—and I have landed a plush “job” here which largely consists of swimming around looking for anomalies (they are a paranoid lot, this Moolabu bunch) and checking in with cute merman gate guard I happen to like.
So watch yourselves.
Still in service,
Dr. Eppent Vellinschweizer»»»»»»»»»»»Daily Vent