You encounter a massive sentient and unfriendly being, made out of some sort of solidified energy.
You've already tried to blast it with your weapon of almost unimaginable power, but to no avail.
So you use the only greater power you can imagine:
your fist.
THEN, you make a silent haiku about it, entitled...
*UNNH*
All that got me is
a fistful of sore knuckles!
I've felt softer rocks!
If so, then you must be the Golden Age Starman.
4 comments:
Starman punches hard
In space no one hears you yawn
Readers floating, bored
I wonder why I
Can breathe in space? Surely I
Should run out of--ACKK!
The mighty Starman
Revered for his top-notch brain
I do wonder why.
Messed that last one up. Here's another shot:
Golden Age Starman
Flies through gritless universe
Punching energy
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