Grow my pretties!
This can't be right. These are small and spongy and they don't even move or cackle menacingly! This is bullshit! Again! I cannot suffer monsters that don't move! I'll have to destroy them!
All that slaughter made me sleepy. The other monsters hadn't finished growing yet, so I left them to continue in their development and went to bed. After a long day of writing my take-over speech, I returned to see that my creatures had stopped growing.
This is wrong though. They aren't huge engines of destruction! They're puny little, slimy-feeling, funny-smelling and squishy little monster baby things!
They are cute, as they gaze up to me with sad little faces and I begin to contemplate their fate.
Everything so far has failed me, but I will not give up. Behold! My final creation! The Peep army! Three regiments of soft sugary death! They have been trained in the arts of battle and will herald my final victory against the Earth!
The Peeps have joined a union and refuse to fight for me unless I can provide them with 15 minute breaks every three hours and dental care. So, I suppose my quest for Easter domination has come to an end. I cannot suffer this any longer. I will need to rally my forces, build more tools of destruction and return later to force my will upon the proles. But what do do with my unruly Peeps?
Peep gladiators! They won't fight for me? They'll fight for their lives!!! The last one to survive each other and the flames will be set free!
The rest I shall simply consign to the flames to die horribly for their insubordination. Their stories will not be told and their ashes shall be scattered to the four winds. Let this be a lesson to my future soldiers. My orders will not be questioned. My will is to be obeyed! I might make a s' more out of one or two, but the rest will be destroyed!
Ahh well, there's nothing left to say here but:
