I wait alone in my abyssal room, closed off from the rest of Nowhere's pelagic envelope. My fist... it can punch. My foot... it can kick. In essence I am the perfect punching an kicking machine. And so I wait... wait for a true contender to defeat in combat so that I may rightly wear this awesome crown. And I've eaten to stay alive for all these years of waiting. I've eaten my own ever-replicating red spheres of nutrition. I am yummy for my own tummy.

Be still my cheese clogged heart, my chest goes thumpa thumpa at the very sight of this Adonis wrought in pink fur. His lips must taste of the highest grade Parmesan. What depths do his perfect orbits reach hidden behind those dramatically awesome shades? Can such a mouse be truly faithful to one woman? Or is his heart truly unobtainable and untamable? Perhaps this bad boy image is why I have pledged him every fibre of my being. Perhaps... the rebelliousness inherent to his character is even more beautiful than his perfect hair. Sigggghhhhhhh....

I am an Omega Borg, one of the greatest warriors of the invading forces. I was designed only for destruction, to strategize and react with deadly precisions. It's been countless years since I was abandoned on this savaged mountaintop. I was content to wait with stoic complacency, but nature now creeps back up the lonesome peak, strangling it with new life. How strange it is that the trilling of these tiny birds might warm a heart that isn't there. I was built to destroy, but where would the honour be in killing this fragile creature? Perhaps I should rethink my ethos of existence. This simple song has done away with so much of the bleak ennui of this mountain. Perhaps... this is real power?