A/N: THIS IS A PARODY WORK. I'm going to hell for sure.


Commander Peepers relished the whine of his plasma chainsaw as he withdrew its viscera-covered blade from the Fist Fighter's ruined palm. He turned to Lord Hater, who had buried his bony snout into the abdomen of a certain homosexual shark man.

"How does Emperor Awesome taste, my lord?" the Watchdog cried, raising his weapon above his head like a primal hunter.

Hater spat out a ribbon. "FUCK YOU PEEPERS, YOU'RE PAY'S BEEN DOCKED INDEFINITELY!"

Peepers ducked a Fist Fighter's sparkling glove, swiping his plasma blade into the five-fingered fiend's chest as a deluge of crimson lifeblood washed over the only uniform he owned. The fingernails of the combatant exploded in puffs of smoke reminiscent of an atom bomb, and the resulting shockwave sent an arctic chill down the optic nerve of his aggressor.

Hater punched Peepers, who wept.

Hater reminded himself to kill himself later.

"Lord Hater, look out!"

Peepers dropped his chainsaw, watching as it slithered through the grass like a paraplegic ground squirrel. It ripped through the remaining members of Emperor Awesome's army, carving a hole in the planetary crust so they fell to the planet's molten core, where folk music plays on a continuous loop to this day, boys and girls.