Earth Pie Day: Year 2222

In the neon-drenched year of 2222, on the cobalt sands of Zylo-22, Sergeant Zaxx of the Intergalactic Festivities Committee stood with a furrowed brow. Before him, a gaggle of Zylosian youths cavorted in ways that would make Dionysus blush, belting out a warbling rendition of "Baby Shark."

"This," Zaxx declared, adjusting his sequined epaulets, "is not Earth Pie Day."

Earth Pie Day. A quaint, bygone tradition from the blue marble, resurrected by these enthusiastic, yet tragically misguided, colonists. Their holographic history lessons, beamed across generations on rickety starships, had somehow morphed the innocent pastime of baking mud pies into a bacchanalian free-for-all.

Zaxx, a grizzled veteran of Intergalactic Chili Cook-Offs, had volunteered to ensure Earth Pie Day's authenticity. Now, he watched in horror as one youth, dressed as a giant pie crust, chased another wielding a spatula-shaped laser sword. A third practiced interpretive mud-flinging, while a group of four formed a chorus line, warbling about "doo doo doo doo doo pie sharks."

Zaxx sighed. He adjusted his holographic apron, emblazoned with the official Intergalactic Pie Federation logo. "Alright, troops," he announced, his voice crackling through a megaphone shaped like a rolling pin. "Let's rewind this pie-nami a bit. Earth Pie Day isn't about chaos, it's about bonding and, well, pie."

His announcement was met with a smattering of confused stares and a lone "doo doo doo doo." With a deep breath, Zaxx launched into a history lesson worthy of Bard himself. He regaled them with tales of rolling pastry, bubbling fillings, and the joy of sharing a messy masterpiece with loved ones. He spoke of cinnamon-dusted grandmothers and flour-faced children, of kitchens filled with laughter and the warm, yeasty scent of homemade goodness.

Slowly, a flicker of understanding dawned on the Zylosian faces. The pie-crust youth shed his costume, revealing a surprisingly talented baker. The spatula warrior traded his laser for a rolling pin, and the chorus line abandoned their aquatic serenade, their voices instead humming a tentative melody that vaguely resembled "The Wheels on the Bus, But Full of Berries."

By the time the Zylosian sun dipped below the bioluminescent horizon, a transformation had taken place. Mud had given way to flour, war cries to laughter, and laser swords to butter knives. The air thrummed with the rhythmic slap of dough, the sweet aroma of baking apples, and the joyful shrieks of pie-filling fights.

Sergeant Zaxx surveyed the scene with a satisfied grin. In the distance, a group of Zylosian youths, faces dusted with flour and smiles smeared with jam, shared a precariously balanced pie, their voices raised in a slightly off-key rendition of "Happy Earth Pie Day." It wasn't quite the Earth Pie Day he remembered, but it was theirs, hilarious, heartwarming, and utterly, deliciously Zylosian. And as he bit into a surprisingly delectable apple-and-glowworm pie, Zaxx knew that sometimes, the greatest traditions are the ones we mess up beautifully.

WORD COUNT: 482 Words
WRITTEN FOR: "The Writer's Cramp"  | "WINNER and NEW PROMPT, due 27-Jan-2024!"  
PROMPT:
It's the year 2222, and human settlers on another planet decide to revive an old Earth tradition... only they get it horribly, and hilariously, wrong. What tradition, and how do they mess it up?

One of your genres must be COMEDY.