You know sitting in some interstellar hypospace for a couple minutes in real time is like sitting in the doctor’s office: it seems like there is no end and then, “ding, would a Mister Giygas please step forward; Doctor Howard is ready for you.” It is even worse when you find out that Doctor Howard was my proctologist. Hypospace is like the low bandwidth area in space time, everybody hates it, but some are always caught in it.

To make a really long story short: I finished plotting. I planned to eat every planet except Cnorizaonth, and then I would create new planets with new races to torture them. All I needed then were some cronies. So I went off to a place where I knew beguiling people was easy because they cannot spell “beguiling.” That magical place is the circus, the Mungo Flopper Circus.

There I found some good friends: Mooks, Taxis, Blue Policemen, and, my best assistants, the Starmen, who did amazing acrobatics before they came with me. I rounded up a big group.

We crumbled one planet. I think its name was Cleveland, but nobody really cared about it. It was duller than a beach ball.

Then we came upon a good challenge: Earth. The Starmen led the invasion as I made stray dogs go crazy and crows steal cookies. Man, it seemed like it was going well. Then that stupid Buzz Buzz had to turn traitor because he liked the music of Frank Zappa. He could always be heard singing, “watch out where the huskies go; don’t you eat that yellow snow,” or, “she lives in Mohavi in a Winebago… his name is Bobby; he looks like a potato.” I kind of liked it, but all music drives me mad.

So he told this boy, Ness, that he could save the world from me. The kid bought it. Now, right before he perished as a result of a freaky woman, he gave Ness the sound stone. It was the beginning of the end. I really hate music.