"Oh! Crapola! The whole crazy planet is going to BLOW! "

*Thinking to himself, I am going to die with three funky Guard Dudes that I am holding off with my dual light saber, while that sorry drugged-out, alcohol drunken induced-weeded-out, but excellent party host excuse for a King slithers down on the floor and pasta out!*
" Captain! Scotty! Lt. ONE! Any Color Shirts! Please beam me UP!"

*In the meanwhile the countdown goes into its final stage -
5... 4... 3... 2... 1... OK, LET THE PARTY BEGIN*
"Arrgggggggggggg! We’re all going to Dieeeeeeeeeeee!"


*Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.....ZaapppppppppZoommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm (transporter thingy noise-like scientific apparatus grabs all the living biological entities with atomic molecular alteration disassembly induced quantum mechanics kicks in)*
“I’m ALIVE on the Pastaprise. SWEET FSM! I made it through all the horrible disasters, the mutiny, explosions, transporter accidents, duct tape, light saber battles, drugs, drinks, sex, and…Er…..Arggggg…the funky guard dudes and the King are here toooo!â€

*Pulls out dual light saber and starts to go after everyone in the transporter room with one thing on his fried hallucinogenic brain. *
“KILL THEM ALL!â€

