The Late Night Show
[Broadcast begins]
“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 important 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 actually predate the Constitution.
A historic moment. ICE looked at them and said, ‘Not our jurisdiction.’
The White House responded within minutes. The President posted a statement on Truth Social, which was later confirmed to contain mostly vowels.
They say the vowels were an attempt at diplomacy.
Early translations suggest he’s offering them a trade deal: ‘They get the poor. We keep the donors.’
He assured Americans that the situation is totally under control, especially the parts that aren’t.
Which is bold, considering emergency broadcasts are showing 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.
Everyone’s 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 now 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.
[Audio feed opens]
“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—”
[Signal loss]
Jenny?
We’ve lost the connection.
Apologies everyone.
We do have guests tonight. Real ones. Legends. People you’re supposed to clap for.
But before we bring them out, I have a personal story of my own.
My wife and my little boy died today while I was here. Practising this monologue.
I watched it on my phone. The camera notification said motion detected in the living room.
I almost muted it. I almost swiped it away because we were running the monologue again.
They say it’s happening everywhere, so I know we’re not special. Statistically, we’re barely even interesting. Still, he was eating cereal. That’s the part my brain keeps saving like it’s the important detail. Not the screaming. The cereal.
So if you’re watching this next to someone you love—
Sorry again, I’m being told to keep it moving.
Right.
I’m being told our first guest cancelled. She’s downtown brokering a peace agreement between the UN and whatever just peeled the roof off Grand Central.
Her publicist says talks were going well.
Then they asked, ‘Could you keep the screaming down while we convert it into an open-air dining zone?’
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 attending.
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]
Ashley Mangtani is a London-based writer whose fiction explores satire, voice, and speculative realism. He is also a senior technology writer specialising in digital transformation and previously contributed to UK government digital strategy projects.