(listen to this video while reading for full effect: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_z-hEyVQDRA& )


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A blast of infants fills the night as the last messenger drops off the child spawn to the blast furnace. Here, children are raised on lava mats with narcissistic monkeys as their instructors. Grenades in hand, the little ones learn how to share your brains upon impact and use food coloring on the skins of pet lions starved in dungeons.


Nap time is punctuated by the sounds of ripping guitar riffs coming from the radio constructed of dino bones and the charred remains of lightning victims. The rumble of the mountain fills the air with soot as black as hellish snow, making a playground of destruction for the newborns.

At recess, onto the back of the barbed-wire beast they go, the youngest baby holding the reins of power in his three teeth. Ozlazeus, the chosen one, wears the helm of command as he impales his bottle into the beast for his daily feeding. With an axe of plastic pastels and flaming orange juice, the chosen one smashes the border to a nearby private school and rams the steed into a car, its claws now with pierced, deflated wheels.

Explosions from the furnaces tear through the sky as winged death kittens come home for their final meal. The tenured monkey teachers consume them and explode as the kittens sit in their chests, controlling them like bone-ladden mechwarriors.

The Kit Mechs tromp, tromp down the street, their bone marrow autoguns tearing holes in the side of a gang members’ hummer as the wheels explode and send the vehicle into orbit. The chosen one rushes forward on his beast and annihilates the Kit Mechs with his metal pig-tailed axe-bat.

The smoke clears. A lone warrior stands. The Volcano Daycare has been avenged.

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