(A dimly-lit newsroom)
Dick: Ladies and gentlemen… I am at a loss in trying to formulate some explanation as to what has just happened. It is unlike anything the galaxy has ever witnessed before. Catastrophic, certainly. I even dare say it's supernatural. Possibly a sign of the end times. Or perhaps… a time of serenity.
Hello, I'm Dick Hammalon, here at the remnants of Holo-Channel 6 presenting what may be this station's final broadcast. As mentioned before, a form of cataclysm has befallen our dear Republic. Here is the rundown of everything we do know:
Based on intelligence released by the Jedi, the planet of Draconia, the source of this week's dragon invasion, also harbored a creature of unimaginable divinity whose name hasn't been released. However, it is known for sure that this creature is the cause for the galaxy's current state, which I will now go into further detail.
Once a vast universal spectacle spanning millions of light years, our proud galaxy has been reduced to this. (Brings up picture) No longer in space, our galaxy is now within some massive pink and seemingly organic enclosure that this reporter believes to the creature's godly stomach. Every planet, every star system has been fused together into untold numbers of planetoids of varying sizes, colors, and environments, all of which remain in place in different spots surrounding a large artificial sun in the center of this gastro-cavity. The rays given off by this solar body are not harsh, but rather gentle and soothing. Reports have come in that citizens of all races, and even the invading dragons, are just standing outside gazing at the orb, which appears to induce a feeling of lethargy.
Needless to say, other than what I've just said, the Republic is experiencing the most peace it's had since its founding, meaning nothing newsworthy is happening. No violence, crime, scandal, anything whatsoever; everyone's too busy spacing out to raise any ruckus worth reporting. Which is why, after this report, I am officially retiring. The professionalism you've come to expect from this station will be no more, as I'll no longer be here to carry it out.
Before I take this somber leave from journalism, I'd like to say a few things about my esteemed profession. When I began work here I felt honored at being able to perform a valued service to the people, yet this honor became despair as I came to see the people for who they really are: Herd-minded, cowardly, gullible wastes of DNA and cheap opiates. Let me just say how utterly embittered you, the citizens, have made me toward my job over the years. Everyday I put on this little show to "inform" all you ingrates, but rather than praise I garner indifference and complaints on how I fail to be "hip" and a "go-getter". I'm tired of leaping through hoops to win your adoration through ratings. The news is more than that: It's about prestige, dignity, recognition, cutbacks, money, and seeing how many people you can bang in the VIP break room in one go. That there takes muy cajones and plenty skill to pull off in great numbers, especially when it's not during the holidays! By the by, my record is twelve.
I have left a legacy here that far surpasses those of any of my colleagues, both former and present, yet it's only going to be forgotten because all you want to do is stare idiotically at some ball hanging in space! To see my life's efforts dashed because of some glorified lightbulb makes me want to yell "I'm mad as H**l and I'm not going to take it any longer!", without fearing the consequences of a lawsuit! That's how much I don't care anymore! Now my final words to my colleagues: William, you are hopelessly camp; Back-Up Anchor, you're hopelessly chicken-s**t; Other correspondents, I hope you're rotting away still within whatever stomachs have absorbed you; The oh-so-great Republic, for too long you've been holding me back, and I pray that your cheap-a**, hypocritical regime will topple in the most horrible, fiery way imaginable. And to my "loyal" viewers, may you sit on this for the rest of your lives. (Gives the finger) This has been Dick Hammalon, saying, (Jumps atop desk wielding a guitar)
F**k you everyone, Good-Night!
(Gives a powerful riff that explodes. Only the blackened desktop remains, as well as a pair of crispy loathers)