as you are probably aware, plans for the development of the outlying regions of the galaxy involve the building of a hyperspace express route through your star system.
and, unfortunately, your planet is one of those scheduled for demolition. the process will take slightly less than two of your earth minutes. thank you.
there's no point in acting all surprised about it. the plans and demolition orders have been on display at your local planning office in alpha centauri for fifty of your earth years, so you've had plenty of time to lodge formal complaints.
apathetic bloody planet, i've no sympathy at all. energize the demolition beams.
detonate.
this is your captain speaking, so stop whatever you're doing and pay attention!
according to our instruments we have unwittingly picked up a couple of hitchhikers who must be apprehended and.
and this is not a taxi service for degenerate freeloaders.
oh freddled gruntbuggly! thy suppurations are to me as plerdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee.
or i shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheaon, see if i don't!
so, earthlings, i present you with a simple choice. either die in the vacuum of space, or -- tell what you thought of my poem.
continue. . .
an astute analysis. very impressive. throw them off the ship.
hmph. "counterpoint the surrealism of the underlying metaphor" death's too good for them.