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Hear me, people of the Earth! I am Randon, fierce warrior of the Tribes of Callijar, hero of the Northern Wastelands, known to those who dare whisper my name as Randon the Indecorous, and I scoff at your weak, timid civilization! When I was first transported to your dimension by my arch-enemy, the Wizard Gravvelus, I thought I had been sent to the very intestine of the underworld. Your huge machines and massive buildings frightened me. But now I know that you only use such things to hide your quailing and helpless nature! How I laughed with glee the first time I came upon a grocery display of Lunchables! Why, even the tow-headed children of my dimension would turn up their noses at such gaudy and indulgent Lunchables as these! The Lunchables of my world rarely contain juice paks, and those that do never, ever come with a straw! And your foot massagers! By Grignr, what sort of softling invalids are the people of your world that they need foot massage mats with eleven intensity settings? Even the most gout-ridden, feeble merchant of my world would ask for no more than eight intensity settings, and the strong warriors of my tribe require only five! Need I even mention your pathetic excuses for hand-held coffee grinders? Have any of you sad worm-folk ever made Turkish coffee? In my world coffee is ground only to percolate, flat drip, or cone drip, and it makes our hearts strong! It makes our women more wild and our men more likely to sweat attractively! So spare me the lubra-strips that we would never allow to adorn our double-bladed disposable razors! Spare me your Goober Grape; in my world peanut butter and jelly are stored in separate jars, as was the peanut butter and jelly of our ancestors! I, Randon the Indecorous, laugh at you, and when I return to my dimension and tell my people of your weakness, they too will laugh until chocolate milk streams from their noses and they are unable to operate their stair-steppers! Farewell! |
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