Planets are an acquired taste. Even the most experienced consumers must be careful when choosing their meal. Too many gas giants in your diet could interfere with the terrestrials.
This planet I'm devouring right now is quite the delicacy. It has starts with a layer of fine soil and water, followed by a crunchy mantle, ending in a warm soupy core. These small speckish things running about on the surface—humans, I believe they're called. They are not the main course of this meal, but more like sprinkles on a galactic cupcake. The explosive spices and nuclear croutons they throw at me only add to the flavor.
And now I am finished. This planet's level of development fails to fill me, so now I desire more. Technology is my protein, electricity is my blood. I must become even more powerful if Cybertron is to be mine.
Ah, what is that I see in the distance? Another planet, I suppose. It's small and red, like a cherry sitting on the dinner plate formed by this solar system. Perhaps I will have that for dessert.