In an unprecedented turn of events, extraterrestrial gatecrashers descended upon Earth this past Saturday, choosing to make their first human contact at an intergalactic housewarming party held, of all places, in a quaint suburban backyard in Norwich, England. The reason for the surprise visit? A sudden interplanetary interest in cheddar.
As the evening unfolded, guests were toasting the new home of Margaret and Nigel Blenkinsop, who had recently moved in following a downsize from their bustling city lifestyle. Little did they know their housewarming soiree would become a hotly debated topic across millions of galaxies. It all began innocently enough—Margaret had set up an impressive cheese board under the twinkling fairy lights, including several artisanal varieties sourced from the local farmers market. Unbeknownst to her, the selection antennaed into the cosmos and caught the attention of a passing Vlarponian space cruiser.
According to eyewitnesses, the aliens arrived in style, floating through the garden hedge in a shimmering silver craft styled suspiciously like a teapot. When confronted, the leader of the crew, a teal-skinned being known only as “Zlg,” explained their unexpected visit was due to a “rich tapestry of dairy aromas” they had picked up on their interstellar travels. It turns out Vlarpone does not laden its moons with cheese, since their planetary food technology advances have long replaced solid food with sustenance gas. Their scientists had intercepted signals (presumably from area cheese farms) and demanded the investigation of its apparent source: Earth’s moon.
NASA has been left scrambling for answers, as their galactic counterparts accuse them of carelessly oversupplying the moon’s surface with delectable dairy. Proposed explanations from red-faced officials include a miscommunication with dairy delivery drones intended for the International Space Station and an unscheduled celebration of National Cheese Appreciation Month. However, conspiracy theorists are buzzing with more bizarre explanations involving clandestine cheese mining operations on the moon for deep-space gouda trading—a theory NASA staunchly denies.
With tensions rising between Earth and Vlarpone, an impromptu diplomatic meeting was hastily arranged on what has been dubbed “the Moon’s Muenster Summit.” In a remarkable act of cross-species friendship, Nigel Blenkinsop was named Earth’s unofficial ambassador, mostly on account of the fact there was still leftover cheddar in the Tupperware.
In a statement following the conference, Zlg expressed both gratitude and gastrointestinal discomfort after sampling all fifteen varieties of cheese at the party. They reportedly placed an order for seventeen metric tonnes of Red Leicester to be delivered directly to the distant galaxy, along with a rather hefty supply of lactose intolerance medication.
The party—deemed a success by all involved—concluded with an exchange of gifts: the Blenkinsops were awarded a celestial plant whose fruit resembles a caramelised onion but sings harmonic renditions of 80s pop tunes, while Zlg and crew took back several pamphlets on Norwich’s tourist attractions, prominently featuring the local cheese trail.
This spontaneous cultural exchange has opened enigmatic doors for further human-alien munificence. Still, questions about moon cheese remain—and as the debate rages on back on Earth, one thing’s for sure: never underestimate the unifying power of a well-curated cheese board.