There once lived a fat, grumpy old dude named Billa. He was about fourteen years old, but he didn’t know how to read or write, much less speak like a proper human being. One time Billa went to the store to buy some pig stomachs. Billa liked to deep-fry them and stuff the disgusting things with melting ice-cream. Billa considered it a delicacy, and when people wouldn’t eat it, Billa became offended, and the person would run for his or her life, because when Billa got mad, you didn’t want to be in the same zip-code as him. Billa lived in a shack off of Marigold street, right under the old stop sign that had fallen over because Billa had gotten mad and yeah. Even the police were scared of Billa, and because he was so blubbery and jiggly and fat, bullets bounced off of him. He was virtually bullet-proof. The SWAT and other police forced had tried to overtake Billa, but Billa just opened his huge mouth and swallowed the poor SWAT team whole. After a while, the police had lost more than a thousand cops that died fighting Billa, and they built a unbreakable fence around where Billa lived, but Billa had just ran into the fence, and caused a riot in the streets. Eventually, the police had learned never to mess with Billa, or the results were brutal. Every time Billa walked down the street, people locked their reinforced steel doors with a couple of metal dead-locks, and crawled to higher ground. One day, Billa was walking down the deserted street, when a flaming asteroid hit Billa right in the Bum, and the asteroid bounced right off, melting some of Billa’s blubber, and propelling Billa a couple miles forward, his face digging a trench in the road. The asteroid had bounced up so violently and fast, it disappeared, and destroyed the Moon, all thanks to Billa. On the news, someone had recorded a video of that happening, and Billa expected himself to be the savoir of the world, but instead was looked upon as a blubbery old homeless person who caused the moon to explode. “Billa you Bum!” shouted the President, as he flew over Billa in an army helicopter. The president shot a double crossed Mach 9001 bazooka at Billa, which bounced off of Billa, obliterating the street and houses around him, and destroying the helicopter which the president was in. The president died tragically, thanks to Billa. The charred bits of the helicopter slowly floated down to the ground, except the double crossed Mach 9001 bazooka. It was left unfazed. Billa grabbed it, pointed it down his gullet, and fired it. An immense fireball was formed, and before Billa could turn it around, the fireball disappeared down Billa’s throat and exploded inside of him. Billa vomited his intestines, which splattered blood on the street, and some people even recorded the destruction of Billa himself. Billa took a last breath, rasping that all he wanted was some fried pig stomach and ice-cream, and fell down, dead. People all over the world (and even the martians on the now destroyed moon) cheered, but stopped when they saw the charred bits of the president, who had “Sacrificed” himself to kill Billa. People put Billa’s intestines in a museum to honor the President, and the double crossed Mach 9001 bazooka was the most praised weapon of the century.
Well, not really… 😛
When Billa had killed the President, the moon’s fragments (which were somehow magnetic) attracted each other, and Trion 69 formed, having both a magnetic core and able to sustain human beings because of the lakes and rivers that had formed when the asteroid landed on the remaining moon fragments. Billa (the bum) had created a whole new type of planet, one that people on earth could live on. He was praised (his holy dream) all around the world, and when Apollo 91 landed on Trion 69, they developed whole colonies on the strange planet, but when Aerth (Trion 69’s moon) exploded, Trion 69 was doomed.
Positive The End.