And of course only a "select special few" is given a ticket to board the Guia, namely the rich, the powerful and the influential, not puny poser artists as they rush to the space port, crying, screaming and begging as they witness the Guia lift off to outerspace and disappear in the red sky. A few days later, the world was engulfed by simultaneous terrible cyclones, tsunamis, earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. Poser artists become desperate for resources and start to fight each other for whatever little was left that escalated to sporadic gunfights. When the bullets ran out, they resorted to swords and clubs. When they too broke, they resulted to their fists. There was so much corpses and too much fighting to bury them all that soon the blithe of infestation and disease killed more than the war.

Like a god, one lone man sees everything through the lenses of a satellite in orbit linked to Guia high above the chaos and stupidity below. When he finished his champagne, he coldly turned to his side reaching and lifting a fiber glass cover that houses a red button and pressed it.

This gave a signal to squadrons of galactic bombers to dive menacingly into the earth, creating tides of sonic booms that blew mountains and flattened entire cities. Using the carefully collected intelligence to locate their targets, they unleashed their cargo of tactical fuel-air bombs and eviscerated the last traces of the remaining "rats" and their "rat holes" which is the code name he gave to them.

"All targets neutralized. Mission Accomplished sir. Omega battle group is on-route back to Guia." crackled on the speakers.

Then all was quiet. The man sat on his chair and poured another glass. A slender figure appeared to the room and sat next to him.

"Finally the posers are weeded out. We can start anew." A sultry looking lady whispered on the man's ear.

"Yep. Let's repopulate this world and make it better."

"Right now?" she asked with a grin on her face, taking the glass from his hand, and took a sip from it and placed it away from a nearby table.

"Do you even have to ask?"

"TheOwl, the way you are is so sexy, who wont have your babies?"

*(if you see read this line, it means you are below 18 and prohibited to read material that involves wild and graphic sex)

The world is mine.

The End

Passion is anger and love combined. So if it looks angry, give it some love!