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Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Attack of a Procrastinatory Race

INCOMING TRANSMISSION: Do you accept?
Hello. STOP. You're planet is being attacked by a procrastinatory race. STOP. Do you help the planet? STOP.
The planet is fairly small
Difficult to control sometimes.
It thinks by itself
It's an amazing contraption,
But one that can be difficult.

You see them from far ahead.
You zoom toward them.
They have red ships
They look like clouds
You know what is inside.

Clowns dancing,
Music playing,
Television blaring,
Alarm clocks screaming,
Siblings annoying.

You know your mission.
You have to stop them.
The procrastinatory race.
They're almost to the planet.
They're almost to your planet.

You arm your shields,
Preparing to shoot the invaders,
Preparing to defend your home land,
Preparing to die for your planet,
You go forward.

There are more of them,
More than you expected.
You're outnumbered.
At least twenty to one.
Still you press forward.

Your hand shakes on the control,
The red button.
The button will destroy your ship,
You in the process,
But it will destroy the procrastinatory race.

You edge closer to the red ships,
Preparing to press the red button.
Your hand shakes violently.
You don't want to give up your life,
But you will do what you have to.

You're in the middle of the twenty ships.
They begin to fire at you.
Clowns, dancers, video games, action figures.
Dolls, movies, television, musical instruments.
You press the red button.

Your ship explodes.
Puffy cotton shrapnel flying.
The explosion engulfs all twenty one ships.
Eliminating them.
Eliminating you.

The planet is over-joyed
The loss of the life,
Though sad
Was necessary.
Your home land is safe.

INCOMING TRANSMISSION: Do you accept?
Your brain has over-come a wave of procrastination. STOP. Only one thought was lost. STOP.

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