The Other Species

 
​​​Instinctively the minute wheels that make up your imitation brain begin to rotate in an all-out effort to comprehend my feelings. 
Your feeble mind has not the capacity!

A menace to my well being, you are a living, breathing imbicle who, by the untimely creation and somewhat humorus grace of God has been allowed to roam freely over this vast universe in search of innocent prey.

You have not the ability to be grateful,
therefore you cannot give.
Not have you the intellect for sensitivity,
therefore you do not know compassion.

So, as I have not yet determined just want your purpose of existence is, I must conclude that you are a parasite whose
annoyance and perverted actions have most certainly become
intolerable to me!