YOUR LASER BEAMS! I NEED THEM.

It’s going to be fucking straight-up with ya’ll. I need some fucking laser beams. I need some fucking laser beams RIGHT NOW. If you haven’t delivered me any laser beams by the time that you’re reading this, then I am assuredly a dead man. I am crumpled in a corner in a dungeon somewhere. My mouth is a mush of broken teeth and a bulbous purple, oozing tongue. You’ve failed me. But that’s okay, because despite years of cultivating a bookmarks menu filled with alleged websites purporting to sell laser beams, none of them have come through for me.

How could you have done what these websites couldn’t?

It’s easy, you couldn’t have.

And yet, I am disappointed in my by-now demise. I am a young virile alien from Mars with no other desire than to fell that which shall not, cannot, be transubstantiated into something as your primitive Earth language. With your blocky metaphors, your clumsy similes, how could I even begin to express anything? Meaning falling in-between the cracks of shitty words, strung together by your reptilian brainpieces.

Nonetheless, your laser beams.

I need them.