Okay...

Name: Mary Liz. You knew that, of course...

Preferred Genre: Fantasy or sci-fi. Story. (no poems, for the sake of my partner... ;D)

K, ths is a story I wrote for school. My teacher didn't like it. It's not *really* good, but she doesn't like it when I a) write too much or b) have overly sadistic characters. So, y'know...

Hope this isn't too long, Admin. It's meant to be a diary entry, by the way, and I named the diary Morris... so yeah. Also, if words like "infamy" seem forced, that's 'cause we had to use vocab words.

Dear Morris,

                Today my fellow Martians and I landed on the planet Earth. We have been monitoring Earth for several years now and finally decided that despite the obvious turmoil it would cause, we would simply have to blow up the planet. I am not, of course, going to state why we reached this conclusion, for if this diary were to fall into enemy hands, the information contained in it would be paramount to the schemes of those who would seek to destroy the advanced underground civilization we Martians have worked so hard to create. But it should suffice to say that our mission was to destroy the Earth. I was looking forward to it, I admit; it’s been several months since I last blew up a highly populous planet.

                Earth is a mildly unpleasant place, or at least North America is. That is where we landed our spacecraft, you see- a great misdemeanor on our part; at least if it’d been, say, somewhere in Europe, we might have been able to persuade ourselves that not the entire planet is so far gone. There’s just this huge amount of corruption. It was awful, certainly not the kind of place any self-respecting Martian space courier would consider forming an alliance with, not in a million years. The culture was materialistic and seemed to be centered mainly around the worship of such things as “Disney pop singers” and “video games.” (Whatever “Disney” is I have no idea, Morris.) We have similar music and entertainment on Mars, of course, but these Earthmen are so infatuated with the pursuit of “stuff” that they seem to, in very extreme cases, build their entire lives around things like television or “social networking.” It’s all very odd, Morris, and rather flustered my fellow space travelers and me.

                The people, for instance--- the people are very strange indeed. Some are covered with ink, and others have, strange as this may sound, little bits of metal sticking out from their ears, eyebrows, even tongues. I myself found the idea of “painting” one’s toenails the most vulgar, but the concept of “hair dye” shall also live forever in infamy in my mind.

A certain custom they have seems to be going to “concerts.” We snuck into one, and nearly had our ears blown off. Not only was it horrendously noisy, the sounds were not musical in the least. It was right about then we decided that in obliterating Earth we did its denizens a favour. “Save them from themselves,” you know.

The landscape is… it’s very… gray. Except at night, then everything lights up. Then there’s lots of bright flashy stuff, and things like that. Less seasoned astronauts might find this rather intimidating. Of course, the space crew and I were infinitely professional; we had a mission to accomplish.

Not that it was terribly hard. We merely had to press a button, and then our nuclear missile detached itself from our spacecraft. It hurtled through the remaining light-years and there was a loud bang. And I suppose also all that “millions of voices crying out in terror before being silenced forever” nonsense, as well, though to be honest I wasn’t really listening. We’d snagged an MP3 player from Earth before annihilating it and Taylor Swift actually wasn’t actually half bad.

Hello, Mango!

GloWorm, Where are you?