Huge, bulbous nose shaped ships burst out of orbit high above the distant planet of Mars. Claxon warnings began to sound shrilly within the halls of the command ship, the Jaxis Orion, while the screw of nearly 5 million men and women of various species scrambled about.
A strong shouldered figure marched briskly down the main walkway towards the command bridge where he would take matters into his own hands.
"Jaxis Orion crew," spoke the infinitely charismatic General and soup manufacturer Mark Campbell from Campbell's Soup. "Return to your stations immediately. We are being hailed by a Sckloop warship. Await further instructions."
He tucked the comlink safely in his underwear and continued down into the bridge. There, he rendezvous with his lieutenant, Mark Campbell MK II, a nearly identical clone replication of the esteemed general himself, save for a bald spot on his wing wong.
"General," MK II piped out uncontrollably within the restrains of his sex chair. "Sckloop warship the Fanciful has requested to board our ship. Do we proceed?"
Campbell stroked his baby bottom smooth chin with a single hand. If he accepted, he would be risking the lives and safety of many innocent people. But he could also attempt to sell his new creation of canned soup. The risk vs rewards…
"Let them in immediately MK II!" proclaimed a confident Campbell as he cracked open a Campbell's broccoli cheese soup drinkable.
Fifteen minutes later the door burst open and in strode in the command team from the Fanciful. In the center stood Grand Marshal Heck with his cronies, Angus and Matt. He did not look happy.
"SO!" he yapped like a stung buzzbee. "What is this trickery? Letting us aboard without any sort of defense or caution? Has the esteemed General Campbell lost his touch?" He let out an ear splitting laugh before snapping his gaze back to the General.
Campbell held the Marshal's gaze bravely, never breaking eye contact.
"I know we've had our differences," began Campbell. He took a huge five second gulp of soup before continuing. "But we have to put them aside for the greater good. For safety. For security. For capitalism." He grinned broadly, pulling out a small white bag from behind his General's chair. "For you, gentlemen," he motioned to Heck and his minions, "I have an incredible idea. For years Campbell's soup has striven to be the best on the market. Safe, eatable products that families can enjoy all the while being easy on the bank account. Well, today, I am proud to announce that Campbell's soup is offering an entire new flavour. And today, here on the Jaxis Orion, you fine people will be the first to taste the new...the exciting...the AMAZING Spider Soup!"
Campbell removed the white bag, and underneath a red and blue spangled can gleamed brightly under the ship's lights. A horrific melding of Tobey Maguire's, Andrew Garfield, and Tom Holland's faces was painted unconvincingly on the front side of the can.
"What trickery is this?" raged the infallible Heck as he stomped and trembled.
"Trickery? No trickery here, Grand Marshal. This is a new step for mankind." replied the ever so serious Campbell. As if to demonstrate his pride, he took a fucking gigantic spoonful of the murky brown soup and gulped down with exaggeration.
"Now that's one spoonful of soup!" Campbell proclaimed with dirty brown liquid dripping from in between his teeth. Heck and his bodyguards looked dumbfounded at this sudden appraisal. Finally, the real reason Heck had come was evident.
"I was sent aboard this pathetic excuse for a ship to deliver a gift…" Heck began mysteriously, twinging the already subtly disgusting air around them. From behind his leather strapped trousers he extracted a small package, wrapped in low quality paper towel. He threw it into Campbell's hands and, before the esteemed General could argue the point, bunny hopped right to the nearest window.
"Happy hunting!" Heck bellowed, strapping on a high pressure space mask and hopping right out into the vacuum. It was then realized that the package Campbell was clutching was none other than-
"It's alright, folks, it's alright." Campbell patted his hands calmly in the air to the only other person in the room, MK II. "Only a drill." He smiled and rolled his eyes as Heck re-emerged back into the room, laughing.
"Almost got you there, commander!" Heck, AKA Campbell MK III jovially chuckled, taking back the mysterious package to reveal a krisp kan of Kentucky Fried Noodle Campbell's chicken soup.
Campbell nodded his approval. Yes, these training regiments he had set up for himself could certainly pull the rug from under his feet at times. Heck's 'bodyguards', Angus, AKA MK IV, and Matt, AKA MK V, marched into the room, each with an equally retarded smile on their blimey visages.
"At ease, soldiers." said Campbell with bravado. Next destination, Earth.
With a furious tug on his penis Campbell urged the Jaxis Orion to pull out from lightspeed. Directly ahead of the ship was Earth itself. It had been years since Campbell had set foot on his supposed hometown. But he knew better.
In a brilliant flash of murky brown light a disheveled Ronald Bilius Weasley appeared without a doubt inside the Jaxis Orion.
"Blimey mate whaddya think you're doing to my ship!" Ron bellowed with leeks leaking from his ears.
"YOUR ship?" The furious captain sputtered. But then, he remembered.
The clones weren't simply clones, were they? No, there was a greater magic at play here, he was sure of it. A magic that could only involve one human.
Herry Perter.
With a stifled gasp Campbell engaged to dislodge one of Ron's eyebrows. His beef noodle always made more sense in the dark. While he read, he smoked.
Ron coughed up blood onto a red tartan gown, but thankfully it made no difference if Hermione went to the dance or not as the ghosts would all be in attendance.
"I'll take THAT!" Ron screamed into Campbell's doughy face. He could only watch with horror as Ron turned the ship 360 degrees and rammed it right into Earth's delicious custard coloured asshole.
"Ooooo fuck baby right there!" Mother Nature urged onwards. Ron gave an appreciative chuckle and crunched his eyebrows a little further. Crunch time.
The ship bounced and trolleyed beyond anything Campbell could have ever imagined. It was only now that he ducked for cover under a desk. Rons hated desks.
"Come out of there!" Ron commanded with no god-given authority. Desks were his hubris, his Arc De Triomphe, if you will.
At the will of everything, clones rained fire of mud spice into the command center. Mud spice entered every crack that Campbell ever had the pleasure of owning. But truly, it was no man's land.