Human vs. Dinosaurs

RAWR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh my, DINOSAURS. Why are there DINOSAURS?

RAWRWARARWRARW...RAWRAWR!!!!!

This is terrible. I am not one to be able to fight DINOSAURS. Maybe I can just run by them.

RRRRAAAAAWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!

Hm. Maybe I can learn to teleport instead. Nope, didn't work. I know, I can fight the DINOSAURS!

RRRAAAWWrrrrrrr...YOUR TIME IS NIGH HUMAN!
IT IS YOU THAT IS NIGH DINOSAUR!!!
PRERAWRPARE FOR BATTLE HUMAN!


And so began the battle between Human and Dinosaur.

A Grass Hill

'Do you love me?'
'Of course I do James. More than anything.'
James smiles.
'I want to show you something.'
'Another one of your magic tricks I suppose?'
James smiles again.
'Just watch.'

James tells Rachel to close her eyes. As she is doing so, James lifts her hand up as if he were introducing her to the sky.
'Rachel, what time is it and where are we?'
'Why?'
'Just trust me.'
'It's just before sunrise and we are on the grass hill in front of your house, sitting by the tree.'
'Ok, I am going to let go of your hand now, but keep your eyes closed till I tell you to open them.'
Rachel nods.
'Rachel.'
'Yes James?'
'I love you more than any living thing should be able to love. I need you to think about the stars, the rest of this lies in the hand you are holding up.'
Confused Rachel shapes her hand into a closed fist, but she does as James ask.

'Open your eyes.'
'James...oh my lord.'
Where once there was a hill, there is now space. Where there was once a tree, there is now a star. Where there once was two lovers, there is now two heavenly bodies.

The Slaughter

The door in front of me is dark red. My hand reaches out to push the door open. I walk knowingly into the slaughter. Despite what I have been told, I stare into the face of my enemy. I fell victim to the slaughter already, I must not let it happen again.

In the darkness I feel my hands rip away from my body; the act is slow. My eyes are greeted by hot iron rods the push to the back of my skull before sliding out the back, taking what were once my eyes with them.

I should be dead from the amount of blood that I now lay in. The blood that I lay in.

'Not tonight, not tonight'
'If not tonight, then tomorrow'
'I don't want this anymore'
'You say that, but here you are again, falling down in front of me'
'...'

The slaughter will no longer be on my account.

'Come at me, I have the opportunity'
'This is not wise'
'The edges of your fingers will no longer dictate my nights. Come at me'

Sight is restored, hands rejoined, and blood is back in it's proper body.

I am armed with a sword from the heavens.
I will be the one to fight the slaughter.

Quick! The Door!

Everyone dies in this story.
There is no moment of 'almost death'. No (like I said) everyone dies in this story.
A character is not left with two arms less than he began with.
I am not lying when I say that everyone dies in this story.
There is no great hero who battles against a monster. The monster will easily kill him, and the word 'battle' would be overstating what took place.
This isn't Buck Rogers. Everyone dies in this story.
If a plane explodes, no daring parachute escapes will take place. This will be the day the parachutes are being cleaned.
Everyone does indeed die in this story.
However,
there will be a modest lead male who is slightly above average in this story.
He will come to know a nice (although eccentric) young woman whom he will later marry.
They will have a son who will grow up to be a handsome, struggling professional singer.
Later in his life, he will fall in love with an English teacher who resides in Ruidoso, New Mexico.
'Revolutionary' will be the word called to mind when people think of her.
She will befriend a pilot named Ted.

The modest lead male almost drives his car off a cliff, then dies of a heart attack.
The (although) eccentric young women has both of her arms amputated after a earthquake causes her house to fall on top of her; She dies shortly after the operation from blood loss.
The struggling professional singer, while high on LSD, thinks he sees a monster in the lake a mile from his house. On his way out to fight the LSD monster, he trips and breaks his neck on a boulder.
His English teacher wife and his revolutionary daughter, along with her pilot friend Ted, embark on a reflective journey to New Zealand. As the engines give way because of the storm, they all die because of the missing (but clean) parachutes of Ted's plane.

Everyone dies in this story.

When I say Sir Andrew must live through the world ending over and over, I do not simply mean the last hour of life on earth. Sir Andrews fate is far worse than that. He lives through evertything, from the creation of the first single celled organism, through primitive creatures just learning to walk, up to people that remind him of home and even past that to things so advanced the only thing keeping them from vibrating out of space and time is a mental link to a central tower. Each time he lives through the creation and destrution of the world, it is different everytime.

Time has lost all meaning for Sir Andrew. His name has lost all meaning. Darkness and light hold nothing more than trivial eye trickery. Sir Andrews once noble quest to destroy a demon has cursed him with this and many other things.

Even in Sir Andrew's madness and contempt for what he is, he notices that this time the world isn't dying to plague, fire, water, or man made destruction. There is a small black bubble rising from the ground in the central city whoms name Sir Andrew doesn't care to know. What Sir Andrew does care about is the fact that the people of the city are calling the bubble Erinyes, for whoever touches it is plauged with the distruction of everything that person has known.

dont ever look so inviting
dont ever look so inviting
dont ever look so inviting
my piano cant make music anymore
the room over is loud

away boy, hit the seventh chord!
subtract three and lets go ride horses

why do you always look so inviting
dont you know to never look so inviting
run run run i swear it will be ok
its beating faster isnt it?
i swear it will be ok
the pace picks up the pace quickens
hear the drums my child hear the drums!
pick up your feet its coming and i dont know why
my sweet its starting again
slowly it gains. with pace it moves.
there isnt time to see what it is behind you

the room over has grown still and nothing in this universe has ever looked so inviting

-----------------------------------

peace be with you now in this time of despair
listen to the air, for it might be all you have
even though you can not hear, even though you can not speak
do not let that stop you from taking in what is yours
it will hurt at first i bet
but it will come later if not now
stonger you have to be. so strong.
time will wait for you
time will wait for you

keep believing
this isnt empty space
it might be despair but listen to the air i beg of you

you can hear it now
no no no
dont look at your limbs, they are of more use than that
stare up. it doesnt matter, up is whatever way keeps you from looking at yourself
this is all yours
just make the first move. against death. against life
can you see it now?
its golden its crimsion its everything
touch it, it feels like snow

----------------------------------------------

i believe there are white lights on the ocean floor
below is a place man has yet to go
what is waiting for me
creatures. devils. gods.
will there be a violin
a drummer?
what else is near the white light at the bottom of the ocean floor
is it in this one moment of brillance that i can reach the ocean floor

-------------------------------------------------

what if people only exsited in that moment of time that your eyes laid fixed upon them
being born without eyes would be a blessing

---------------------------------------------------

it hits me awake
it keeps hitting me to be sure i am awake
i am awake! i scream it!
its not enough
i know its not enough
space feels like flesh ripping all around me

-----------------------------------------------------

to hear something this beautiful
it is enchanting
in these final minutes of eternity, it means something
i want so bad to hear the last of this song
of course in doing so i doom myself to be there for the ending
i am pulled. i am pulled right of the ground
i want the ending, i want the final moments
here in the middle if i cant even keep myself to stay on the ground
i must know, i must
what the final ending will sound like
where my body is now isnt enough
hieght above anything isnt enough
i want to be torn a part and put back together
i still have so long to go
another sound joins the fray
it really is gaining now i promise you that
why does everything feel so urgent
earth is already eons away
I AM STILL GOING
how much more of this can i take
how much
but then, but then it slows down

only to start again

joy is overflowing in me
its not so much that i was there in the begining or that i will be there in the end
my its everything that is in between

there it is!

i have made it, its everything and nothing all at once

there is nothing so wonderful

there is nothing so wonderful

nothing so wonderful

---------------------------------

tonight i will sleep with the cross in my hand
my reminder of the begining, the middle, and the end

as painos take me to sleep
as angels watch over me
we will travel together in my dreams

this is everything i ever wanted and nothing i wished for
this is my masterpiece beyond words
nothing is mine is mine, make it
force my hands to unpry and take what you need
never mind always yours

keep me here with you. i like the feeling of floating

A Marvel of Time and Space. Here, there is no Marvel. EXPLOSION EXPLoSION

First he takes the knife as he would his lover. Behind the off white mask he hides behind, I can tell he would rather be anywhere in the world. For that, I can forgive him. He wipes the knife for a third time across his apron. A finger goes up , slowly, to push back the glasses he wears. The game has begun and there is no one left but him.
He starts by pushing the loving blade down against the top of the forehead; In the exact spot he outlined 10 minutes earlier with a black marker. The edge cuts around the whole perimeter of the face before finally stopping where it began. A hand comes up to brush away the sweat on his coarse brow. He draws his lover in close, then wipes if a second time on his apron. The job is yet to be done, there are still black marker around the eyes, more, and mouth. Again he grasp his lover and moves it across the marks as if committing adultery.
Minutes later he reluctantly places the love of his life on a cold steel tray. He swear under his breath, his mask, about cleaning it off. Seconds pass that seem like years before his two hands lower toward the now seemingly mangled face.
A lite drumming motion emits from his hands on to the face. With each tap, tap , tap of his fingers, whom he teats like bastard children, the face ripples to the open seems. He makes his way up toward the cut in the forehead like he move a hand up a womens dress. He arches his back and grabs at the loose skin as hard as the world will him. He can feel his index finger with his thumb through the skin that separates them.
My vision blurs as he rolls my skin past my eyes. He takes notice of my squinting and pulls the mirror above my head in a bit closer. I fell victim to a man and his lover. I fell victim to a man and his love.

The Journey of Birth

“Fuck”, I thought to myself.
If you know me at all, you know that words like 'fuck', don't really escape my mouth. So that's why I am just thinking it, over and over to myself. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck.
“Heaney man, are you all right?”
I am sure my face looks like the equal of a turd the Incredible Hulk just shit out, only I doubt if I am as warm. So I say the only response that is fitting to my feeling right now. In this moment.
“Shit”

Let me take you back a day until we get to the events that lead up to my brilliant opening line. I suppose a lot of kids look back and say, “I couldn't control who's womb I came out of”. Well trust me when I say, I know the feeling. I know it like a stripper knows its pole.
When your parents are in the business of killing people, you are bound to not be liked. When I was eight years old I saw my dad dig a hole about two feet deep in the backyard. Being eight, I waited till he left and I took a dump in it. Three hours later I go back outside with the intentions of adding urine to my new found hole only to find my dad cementing some mans head in the hole. I doubt if the bastard even so much as even thought about cleaning up my poop.
At fourteen, my parents both set me down and explained to me that they...
“Heaney, me and your mom have something we want to tell you”.
“What are we moving again?”
My mom interjects.
“No honey, no no.”
You have to love the way mothers think repeating information makes the next set easier to take.
“We are sorry for all the moves as of late. They were, unavoidable”.
Dad chimes back in.
“Sit up and take this. Me and your mother...me and your mother kill people. We are professional assassins”.
“Fuck.”
That last part, that was me.
It was here my dear mom reared back and slapped me across my face while my dad repeated the old tale about how we don't use that sort of language.

The next five years of my life were different than most. My favorite moment was when I took my then girlfriends virginity only to find out my mom slept with here dad only to shoot him between the eyes right after, on the same day, the day before I sex'ed. For some unknown self righteous reason, I felt it was my duty as the good boyfriend to tell the girl what happened. We moved the next day. As a side note, I heard a few months later from an old friend that she was pregnant.
Here we are, my 23rd birthday. I've lived a normal life for four years now. I naturally have decided it is best to go on to graduate school. On this night me and my only good friend Alex decide to just hang out at my apartment and watch T.V.. A few hours pass of watching girls fanatically take off their clothes. Things were normal until about ten o' clock, things then quickly went south.
Seeing a shotgun blast go threw your front door is a humbling experience. It could have been me I thought, but instead it was just a large plank of wood. Some guy I have never seen before walks through my front door. Good looking guy with long hair walks ever so closer toward me. When he gets to Alex, he takes his shotgun and hits him across the head with it, knocking him out. Tad of a bastard thing to do. All I can think about as my friend bleeds to death on the floor is how I wanted to cap off my birthday by masturbating after reading people magazine. As the unknown gunman starts the action of hitting me in the face, I get a little worried about the events that are about to take place and wish I had done said deed earlier that morning.
“Fuughhauc”. Note to self, don't cuss (or attempt to talk for that matter) with a broken jaw, you will end up sounding like a Muppet.
“Shut your mouth and stay on the floor”.
He doesn't really have a way with words this gunmen on mine.
It's not in my nature to piss off people with a shotgun, so I do as he says. The asshole didn't make it easy though, he kept hitting me in the face.
It was here the lone ranger of a gunman start to explain ever detail about why he was doing what he was doing. I should have known this was a big moment in my life and actually listened to him. Instead however, I watched COPS through a little opening out of my right eye. Some ecstatic women called the police about a snake in her yard. Why on earth would you call law enforcement about a damn snake in your yard? And here I am being hit in the face.
“I am getting my knife. I am then going to come back and gut you slowly. You will know what pain is before I kill you.”
Good sir, I assure you, I have a good handle at this very moment on what pain is.
As he left, I took it upon myself to snap my jaw into place. I imagine he will get pissed when I ask him for his explanation of these events.
“Heaney man, you alright?”
This is the point where I just think 'fuck' over and over.
“Shit. Alex, listen to me, you have to get out of here. That guy is going to come back and kill us both.”
“What is going on, why is he doing this”
“Alex. I slept with his mom, now leave.”
Truth is, I never had sex with this mans mom. I do not even know this man as I have said before, but it seemed like a thing you would guy someone over. Alex gets up and runs, shouting about how he will get help. It was here I wish I would have told him that my soon to be killer is most likely right outside.
There is a rather loud sound from outside followed a minute later by footsteps and mister shotgun walking back in.
“I want you to know, I broke your friends leg and rolled him down the hill in front of your apartments.”
“Thats great, really it is, but why are you doing this?”
My chest was the soccer ball and he was David Beckhem. I can hear the Spanish announcer crying out goal at the top of his lungs. Personally, I wet myself. Right before he drives the knife through my thorat I think about how badly I would love to have some string cheese.

Being dead is nothing like I expected. What I expected, well i have no clue; maybe some long tunnel of light, not this endless walkway of white string cheese. I know it was string cheese because the moment I woke up, I got on my hands and knees and took a bite out of the ground.
Another odd thing about death is that there is no source light, everything is magicaly illuminated.
Why is my name Heaney? What unbirthed sin did I commit to have such a name? Sounds like the genital region of an alien equivalent to a dog.
“There is so much cheese! I suppose I could eat my way through the floor till I find something more interesting”. No one ever says sentences when alone by themselves, but with so much string cheese, one has to say something.
So I eat. I realize after forty or so feet of eating that I am not getting anywhere. It's like the episode of the Simpson's where Homer is forced to eat donuts for all of eternity. Wait, it is nothing like that.
Wait. WAIT. Why am I not wearing any clothes.
It's a strange thing noticing that your once safe cheese valley is folding up with you inside. It is even worse when you notice the cheese container you are in starts to fill up with blood. I couldn't talk in all this blood, even if I wanted to. I have lost all forms of understandable speech.
NOW I ARE LOSING MY SMARTS.
I this hate.,.,.,,;
I see lgiht. NO!, NOW., . I see a gnait HNAD!.

I DONT WANT TO BE EAATEN.


I asked the doctor not to smack my new born child on the ass. Jerk did it anyway. There is just something degrading about your first moment alive being a passing slap on your ass. I hope my journey of birth wasn't like that.

The Reflective Property That Thankfully Has Yet to be Actually Discovered by a Conventional State. Other Wise Known as Hark the Great Spark! It Does N

He sits haunched over unthinkingly playing with himself.
GRAPES.
In ways, take part in ways, Grapes are in the mind. Maybe zeros walk backwards from the negative place.

As an action he forgets to take part in, he spits against the wall.
SPLAT.
SPLAT SPLAT.
It could have been worse. It could have exploded amongst the wall and back into his face.

Images tumble downward without remorse to his thoughts.

“There is shit everywhere”

Sure it isn't the most delicate of sentences but take into account it gets the point across. Looking out the back right window of a suburban could be the same as killing fireflies in the night; it's not. The window brings me cows, cows who shit everywhere on everything. BORN AGAIN IN ALL CAPS.

Ghost ghost ghost ghost ghost ghost ghost ghost ghost. I want to see through a door into a girls room and stare at her body! Stare I say! A mighty stare!

But
This
IS
kinda
like

FALLiNg
only not as lame!
Guts.
Flesh
Thoughts
Feelings
Awkward moments
Speech
Death
Shapes.

“But the earth will
DIE.”
I DO
“What should about that?!”
“LEGENDS. WE USE LEGENDS.”



Lets.
Weed.
Out.
The.
Bad.

Because we must weed out the bad stuff before we can move on. For there to be (WATCH ME NOW) perfection, we can not expose the bad. Bad bad LEEROY BROWN.
How will that help our cause?
We are (HUMANS) dying.
So much within us.
Feels like it will take forever to go through it all.
Six of the smartest left on the planet.
The only six (LOOKS LIKE SEX) still left.
IF WE CAN NOT CREATE the perfect human;
it will all happen again as it has before
The world is ending.
We are the cure and the last chance in one.
We are the problem.

In a lab at an undisclosed location, six scientist are all the hope the world has left.
They are the last remaining humans on earth.
They charged themselves with creating the perfect human,
the one thing that would bring the human race back to glory.
None of them understood how hard it would be. None of them
took into account what actually made up a human. Stupidness over took them in
the smartest of their nights. It is only now they SEE CLEAR AND UNDISTRUBED
that they are the problem. They created everything and nothing all at once. While witnessing
the test subjects behavior and thoughts they think aloud how well they have done despite how obviously wrong they are. Days and nights are still to be spent.

THIS IS NOT A VIEW ON OUR WORLD. EARTH IS A SUBJECTIVE IDEA. THIS PLANET WE SEE HERE DOES NOT EVEN EXSIT.


I'll make a hole in the bottom of the boat and plug it with my eyes.

The Story of John Jacobs

It's 5am and the sun is just about to rise. This day would be the same as any other day for John Jacobs, if it wasn't for the fact today would be his last. As John slowly gets up, his mangled gray hair falls in front of his eyes. His elbows fall against his knees in much the same way they have been lately. He pushes his foot down hard against the wooden floor to bring himself up. A loosely button shirt comes undone and John's chest feels air for it's first time that day. With grace, John's rough hands move and pick up his belt; on it are two revolvers. Memories of his youth flood back to him, before he knew what he was doing with his life and when he took his first life. His head forcefully shakes off the memory. The sun blistered arm of John's stops right before it pushes open the door, he takes one look out his window. 'There must be dozens of them out for this' he thinks to himself. 'I'll give em a hell of a show'.


“If it isn't the famous John Jacobs of the south. What do you say old man, are you ready to give in or die?”. 'A pompous asshole' are the only words John could ever use to describe Edward Black.


“Son. I rather die 10 times on this here earth than give in to any wish from you”. The way the words come out of Johns mouth mimic a preacher who has had enough of lying to his congregation.


“Have it your way then, I assume you brought your girls?”. Edward Black takes his name to a point. His all back suit comes together with a black tie; the sun seems to avoid him.


“I haven't left my girls behind in over 36 years, I'll be damned if they miss daddy's finest moment.” Johns left and right hand respectfully move down to his revolvers. 'The daughters I've never had'. It's a thought he has repeated to himself since he first received them. John killed his first man with his bare hands after, he can't even recall the name of the man, drew a gun on him and accused him of sleeping with his wife. To hell and back John doesn't remember if he did or not, but he knew just then he hated the idea of a gun being drawn on him while he was empty handed. After breaking the mans finger while he was holding the same gun pointed at John, a question was asked. 'Fella, do you have a second gun on you?' Yes was the mans response and John pulled it out from his coat. 'Reason I ask is because I've never held a gun before, let alone two. You see, I have always wondered what would happen if a man, like yourself, had both of his thumbs shot off at once. Which one would hurt more? My guess, the one you use to pleasure your self when your whore of a wife is sleeping with another accused man'. John never forgave himself for all he did to that man before he killed him, then again, he never really cared.


“Come on John, don't just stand there people are watching.” They take their place back to back on a line drawn in the sand. '10 steps. Seems like waste of energy just to kill a man'. From what he can remember, this is the 17th time he has had this thought. Each of these times John thought it would be his last time to ever even have a thought.

The steps don't come quick enough. John feels his good mother earth who has been kind to him all these years resisting his steps. The wind is at his back. 'Hell for luck today I suppose'. John's right boot lifts up after the ninth step; dirt falls off like a calm rain. Two ticks of John's heart come slow. During the first tick John turns. During the second his daughters come to his aid standing front in center in the mist of his eyes. Edward Black is ready to meet whatever doom approaches.


John Jacobs closes his eyes and lets his throat crawl up to his mouth. Skin rips. John doesn't hear anything as he opens his eyes. He doesn't see the dozens of people standing around mindless with their jaws hung open. The only thing John sees is Edwards head snap back and bring the body shortly after. John is about to die. The only thing John Jacobs says, the thing that will be his last, “I am the last American cowboy.”

Give me Gravity

Space isn't as cold as you would think. Sure, it is cold, but you do not freeze instantly and you can still rub your hands together for warmth. I've been out here for what I think is eighteen to twenty days trying my best to die or right what I did wrong. Something is keeping me from drawing my last breath or digesting that last bit of food.

70,000,000 years later.

About to collide are two planets, in the middle, a man who is still alive. Green flames light up the darkness surrounding the planets. Brilliant colors shoot out from all directions. These are the last two planets in existence and they are about to crush the last living thing in the universe. Measurements like feet and yards shouldn't matter when things of this size are being discussed, but this time they do. Feet away from impact the man in between the two worlds raises his arms to holds the planets at bay. There isn't one look of effort on his face, just a look of shock as his hands feel something that isn't human skin. His elbows give just enough and then he extends his arm the most he can and sends the two planets in opposite directions with so much force that there is no doubting they will never meet again.

He forgot the words long ago yet he still knows the feeling of rebirth. This is not a story of creation or of the end, this is the story of the Architect and how he intends to right all of his wrongs.

INVISIBLE PLANT OF DEATH AND DOOM.

INVISIBLE PLANT OF DEATH AND DOOM.

First, a story from my childhood:
I was a young lad of about 5 years old and I lived with my parents in an apartment that resided in Fort Worth Texas. There was nothing special about where we lived, it was modest because of a lack of money so all we really had was a couch and TV. However, this story would be nothing if I did not speak of the devil that lived near the back window. This devil was taller than me, had a green skinny torso, and huge HUGE green “leaves”...or death traps if you will. In some cultures one might call this creature from the bowels of hell a plant, they would be wrong.
One day I was joyfully frolicking around my house with a ball that contained much bounce. On this dreadful day the stars were aligned as so my ball (the one with much bounce as stated before) would not go straight up and down as a bouncy ball very well should. Instead what unfolded next would undoubtedly shape my life. As I bounced the ball one more time my attention was turned away for just one split second as I looked over to my father my once trusted and loyal ball slipped under my foot. I suppose while I wasn't paying attention the creature bribed my cherished ball with promises of dirt and photosynthesis to make these events transpire. With my ball now under my foot I quickly lost my balance and started to fly back in Goofy cartoon fashion, straight towards the creature.
It was dusk and I was placed on my back between a wall that wouldn't move and a creature that wouldn't let me move. I screamed, I kicked, and I pleaded for my fathers help, but none came. No matter what I did the green death traps kept my small frame from emerging from the black zone of death. I must have blacked out after that, because I have no memory as to how I escaped from that awful attack. My only guess is my father saw his son suffering and fade off into blackness and realize he had to save me or I would have been lost forever.



I am one of at least fifteen people that has Botanophobia and the previous is I believe, the reason why. When the assignment was presented to make our own monster, I knew immediately it would be some form of a plant. However, I knew I could not get by on a simple plant because most people, normal people, are not afraid of plants, in fact they eat them regularly. So I decided to indulge into my fear a bit and add some features to make my plant all the more terrifying.
First this plant is evil and it is knowingly evil. It likes being evil so much that when it is on the toilet preforming some plant/sun thing that it is thinking of ways to be evil. The plant could easily not kill people and cut off its crazy thorn beard and become a valuable member of society.
Next on the list of evil death plantness is this plants ability to turn invisible. With his knowingly evilness within him, the power to turn invisible and fade into the black zone off death just makes him a most unstoppable foe indeed! At a moments notice devil plant could pop out of nowhere and strike with his single tooth of death all the while his water droplets of death splash upon you! You can not grab him and attempt to hold him down because he is covered from root to leaf with spiky poison tipped hairs that make up his beard of death and despair! All the while his tentacle and slimy eyes gaze upon you as if you were the last meal left on earth and this was your final hour. Also, he has MLA format memorized and talks about it as he is devouring your flesh and your very being.

BotsR.

"What is it to be alive?"said the small robot.
"I...I'm actually not sure. To feel I suppose."said the young boy.
The small robot stared at the boy for a minute before kicking the large pine tree that the boy was leaning against.
"Yes?" questioned the robot of the boy."
"No no. Like the feeling you get when your mom tells you that she loves you or the feeling of knowing that summer is just an hour away."
It was here that the ground started to shake as the boys parents steered there personal spaceship down near their son. The war between humans and robots had grown to large, to violent, and many people were leaving.
"Where are you going?" asked the small robot.
"I have to fly away with my family. We are going to the ender zone I think." said the boy without hurrying his speech.
"What is it like, to fly?".
"I'm not to sure, I haven't done it before. I had a dream about it last night, only I wasn't in a starship."
"Can I come with you?"
"My parents won't let you, no robots are allowed in the ender zone." The boys tone turned sorrowful.
"Andrew! We have to leave hurry up!" Yelled out the boys mother.
"Nova, I will pray for you. I will miss you."
With that the boy threw his arms around the small robot and squeezed tight.
"Andrew, what is pray?"
By now the boy had already let go of Nova and was almost inside his parents ship.
"Nova, pray is when you make a wish for someone. A wish that only becomes true when you really believe what you are saying, that is prayer Nova. Good-bye Nova!"
Nova watched as Andrew's ship lifted slowly off the ground and then escaped into space. All around in the distance Nova could see explosions inching closer to the location that was just shared with Nova and Andrew. It was night time now and Nova knew he would need to save energy if he was to make the journey to the next forest over, so he shut down the power supply that kept him going and did the closest thing he could to 'sleep'.
Meanwhile in the deepest reaches of space, a small boy was praying for his friend Nova the robot. He was praying the only prayer that he knew would make Nova happy, to feel happy.
Slowly Nova's power supply came back on and lit up his eyes to see what was in front of him.
"Feathers?" Nova said aloud in a mechanical curious voice.

Nova never touched solid ground again.

I can play nice at noon when the world thinks of me as a small car parked in an interstellar space k

"I speak truth!"
"You speak treason!"
"Look out the window, tell me sir what is treason when this is what we have to look forward to!"

So outside the window he looked and remembered what had happened. The strange creatures rose out of the ground so fast that no one knew what to do. Twelve eyes and legs to match, attached to a skinny body over eight feet tall climbed out of deep black holes spread out over the countryside. It was then that they started destroying whatever lay in front of them. Zebras have a way about themselves.