As the plants spun about the sun in their divinely appointed coarses and paths, meanwhile, Edward was flying through space like the mighty meteors which had long ago slammed into earth and slain the dinosaurs like the tiny flies which impact the windshield of the tourbus of the rock band, crossing the country on the tour of America, Afghanistan, and Iceland where the many volcanos are.
Spaceships attacked each other like characters in a videogame designed by an geeky madman obsessed with images of mermaids in speedos who speed down Lakeshore BLVD at more than twice the speed limit, but don't get busted by the police thanks to the virtues of the ninja stars they hurl at law-enforcement officials who dare challenge them.
Edward was not particularly amused at the moment, for things seemed a bit out of whack lately. An elf ran up to him, carrying a metal box with many gears on it, as well as a smoke stack, a windsock, and a little flag with the words THIS IS NOT A FLAG on it; Edward took his trusty Soltam K6 out of his pocket and used it to shoot the elf.
He then examined the strange device. On one side was a series of buttons which alien-looking symbols on them. He pressed purple button; nothing noticeable happened. He pressed the green button, and—
