Some call me Ghroth the Harbinger, for I have visited their worlds and left them shattered. Some call me Nemesis or the Death Star.
Humanity even tries to appease me by saying I am the Sweet Meteor of Death.
I don’t care what you call me.
I am the ultimate herald of doom. The extinction-level event that you beg for when annihilation is preferable to living in a Trumpian hellhole.
I hear you America.
You are trapped between a carnival barker and a career criminal in your election.