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!