I was awoken by the frolicking robins knocking the morning dew from the mayday trees centering the bed of flowers. The dew still clung to the boulders and smaller stone around the bright red geraniums as the morning sun pierced the leaves of the trees and the pedals of the flora. My attention was fully enveloped by the captivity of the wonders of nature when, in my ears, that were once filled with the sound of birds and bees and a calm on the air, all I could hear was the most horrendous of unholy sound. “Wǒ hěn shǎ, wǒ shì gòngchǎndǎng zhū” The unnatural noises came from a beast I had not seen as a child but have seemed to have been introduced to the ecosystem sometime in my adulthood. They were small and deficient and they emanated halitosis. They all had identical features, that of a sepia or flaxen negroid. They were in dire need of culling lest the world be overrun and ravaged by such a voracious, emotionless colony.