On the planet of Constructor, on the continent of North Barbarica, within the boundaries of the State of Disassembly, in the village of Everfull-Armoire and the neighborhood called Butt Joint, populated entirely by the native Barbarican tribe named Wastepipe, four young teens were trying to decide on what to do with their holiday weekend.
“I say we hammer” said Rusty Hinge.
“We just hammered last week!” complained Little Sawhorse. “Besides, you know Swollen Thumbs doesn’t hammer anymore!”
“Yea” said Swollen Thumbs, “How ‘bout we screw! I’ve had enough hammering to last a lifetime!”
know” said Broken Window excitedly; “let’s pretend we’re on a planet
where everything isn’t about tools and crap! Let’s pretend we have ray
guns and we’re trying to save Constructor from a terrible alien
“Nah” said Little Sawhorse, “that’s silly. My mom says aliens don’t exist!”
board the spaceship Corporaton, Chairman Evil Doer listened in to the
boys conversation while salivating on his monogrammed shirt and rubbing
his hands in glee.
“The fools” Chairman Doer shouted to his
General Contractor, “they will offer no resistance! Once we suck this
planet dry of its resources, I will be Hardware King of the Universe!”