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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/TheLucid0ne on 2024-12-28 02:39:43+00:00.
The Humans Aren’t Okay - An Anthology:
Story 1: Chemical “Warfare”
Galactic Cycle 7321, Report by Ambassador Z’karr Vorthin
We had underestimated them—not in the way you underestimate a predator’s bite or the speed of unassuming prey. No, this was worse. The humans, with their boundless audacity and penchant for chaos, had weaponized their own self-destruction against us.
It began innocently enough. The war between the Confederation and Humanity was inevitable, a conflict foretold by their defiance of every principle we held sacred. They were chaotic, unpredictable, and infuriatingly stubborn. They refused to conform to intergalactic standards, mocked our treaties, flouted planetary regulations, and once broadcasted something called “reality TV” onto our diplomatic channels as an “example of cultural expression.” I still wake up screaming at the memory of Jersey Shore.
But their most devastating assault came during what we believed was an armistice meeting.
They called it a “gift of cultural exchange.” A crate—no, an entire freighter—arrived at the Confederation capital, packed with brightly colored powders, pills, and dried plants. Along with it was a chirpy message:
"For the esteemed members of the Confederation, we present a collection of Earth’s finest recreational aids. Enjoy responsibly! Humanity out!”
Our analysts dismissed it as a trivial gesture, perhaps a misguided attempt at diplomacy. Foolishly, the High Council decided to sample the offerings.
The first casualty was Councilor Thlorrik, a hardened veteran of a thousand wars. She consumed something called “gummies” with an expression of disdain. Moments later, she was attempting to communicate with the Council chamber walls, insisting they were “vibrating at an existential frequency.”
Councilor Jark was next. He snorted a fine white powder referred to as “cocaine.” Within seconds, he declared himself “Supreme Overlord of the Galactic South Quadrant” and began an elaborate dance routine, gyrating his hips in a way that would have been impressive if it weren’t so humiliating.
By the end of the first hour, two-thirds of the Council had ingested various substances, ranging from “mushrooms” to a sticky green plant labeled “kush.” What followed was nothing short of mass hysteria.
High Chancellor Vrax consumed “ecstasy” and declared his undying love for Humanity before attempting to initiate a trade alliance with a holographic projection of a human celebrity named Keanu Reeves. Admiral K’var ingested “acid” and was last seen trying to pilot his dreadnought into a supernova, convinced it was the “Universal Spirit’s Eye.”
And then there was me, a humble ambassador with the misfortune of consuming something called “edibles.” For seventy-two rotations, I believed I had transcended physical form. I floated through dimensions, communed with cosmic entities, and discovered the secret to universal peace, only to forget it all entirely upon sobering.
By the time we realized what was happening, it was too late. The humans had dismantled our war machine without firing a single shot. Our military leaders were incapacitated, our diplomats were hugging planetary mascots, and our scientists were furiously trying to invent “pizza rolls” after intercepting a human transmission describing them as “god-tier snacks.”
The Confederation crumbled, not from human firepower, but from our own indulgence in their absurd chemistry.
The humans called it “Operation Party Foul.” They later informed us that the substances we consumed were considered “mild” by their standards and graciously withheld their more potent creations—things they cryptically referred to as “Florida Man cocktails.”
To this day, the Confederation exists in a state of reluctant peace with Humanity. They are unpredictable, chaotic, and possibly the most dangerous species in the galaxy. Not because of their strength or technology, but because they weaponize their absurdity with surgical precision.
Beware the humans. They are not okay. And they will make sure you aren’t either.