PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

With gladness, recorded on all active monitors,

we received the news of the appointment of

Chancellor Whophunkedia to the position of

Second Assistant Deputy Undersecretary of

Registrar Records (Receiving Division):

this qualifies for a schedule four celebration,

which will be the first of its kind, in this

arm of the galactic spiral since our great

victory over the Original Hegemony seventy

parsec years ago.  For the most part, the

Originateds, as a species, are extinct; their

mutants and their clones are equally

extinct.  Their debris, littered all over

habited space, possesses no value, as

either artifactsm curios, or meltdown.

We have hauled it---at considerable but

necessary expense---to a dumping site, the

cratered and lifeless satellite of a small

blue planet, itself circling a mediocre star

which has nearly exhausted its hydrogen

supply (notice the random sputters and

flickers).  Not coincidentally, the last

Originateds still dwell on that planet,

dwelling in caves, scavenging for . . .

well, for whatever still grows on that

devestated surface, which is mostly

bare rock unable to sustain much

vegetal life.  The junk we have

deposited on that gray, dismal

floater has begun to destabilize

its orbit.  Immediately after the

loyalty oath has been reiterated by

Second Assistant Deputy Undersecretary

Whophunkedia, the celebration will

commence, and climax with the

broadcast, toall the worlds we have

conquered, the precisely controlled

collision of the loaded satellite into its

planet---gray and blue (and a miniscule

bit of the blood of its denizens, still

busily foraging, and blissfully unaware of

their impending, and unregretted demise).

Then we shall give the planet a good, swift

nudge into its dying star---for immediate

consumption (a morsel?  a tidbit?) that

cannot extend its failing existence, not

one bit at all.

Starward