The end of the day

You have arranged your file and ready to leave work for the next day, and then there's this half-human, half-alien come barging in asking for the world. You only have a minute to lose your temper and set out a nuclear war, but for a moment you stop your self, you hold on to the detonator and stop the bomb from ticking.


That poor excuse of a human being is the source of your angst since Harry Truman bombed Nagasaki, imagine that feeling when he started giving you mumbles from his pea-sized non-processing temple, I feel like conquering a whole new country and set all its citizen into a death march.