The Electric Warrior frowned with concentration,
Memories of old engagements picking at his brain.
There had to be a protocol,
Wacky though this host now seemed to be.
Did grandpa Pinkynose play croquette,
Or lead battalions of galactic goats?
At last he typed: paramaters unclear --  require coordinates of time and place.

What the starburst blazes was that!
Ah, quizzlenuts! We've been hacked again.
Signature frequency of a video parlour junky ...
Listen punk, we're gonna' burn you lot.
I'll personally barbeque and chew your toes ...
Pinky's voice shrilled, but his pixelated eyes stayed impassive.
The gunner's lips curled. Screen bot, he sneered.

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