Bugman blew a hole the size of Bugman in his enemy’s chest, screaming loud ramblings as he did so and furious over it. “BUGMAN AIN’T GOT THIS UNDER CONTROL,” he yowled, scanning the horizon and looking for the source which had no source but beamed with an uncontrolled frenzy anyway.

Planet BugZONE was under attack. Again. And Again! Again with the attacks! We got bugs! Call in the infantry! NO! Call in BUGMAN! The last defense and the last defender: Bugman. He stepped through the smoking wreckage and lifted his visor past his brown face and looked deep inside himself. I hate this, he replied to no one but answering the question every reporter would ask when he stepped off the ship after the war concluded. Would it ever conclude or would it just be a series of skirmishes? That’s life. Don’t think about it. He didn’t know which he hated more: the reporters or the reports they wrote.

In the meantime though, bugs. We got ourselves an INFESTATION, BOYS! Bugman cocked his gun and strode like a swaggering badass on off down the gangplank of his personal ship, the Bugman. It blew up shortly after because it was LOADED UP with bugs! FUCK! Time to get serious. He strutted around, blowing apart enemies with the casual practiced ease of a hunter in Hunt World. Love that place but that’s not where we are. Back to the present please. Bugman chucked away his gun because it don’t stand no fuckin’ chance bro and charged his Bad Cannon and fired it all over the place, big green blasts lighting up the jagged landscape with a fury never before seen. Except for once: the last time he used it.

“IT’S A GREAT DAY DOWN AT THE BUGMAN,” he screamed, loving every second of this carnage. Bugs blew apart in sickly orange bursts, wet like the melon rinds he ate for dessert this afternoon.

The Bug Army was dwindling despite its superior numbers. They didn’t have Bugman. That’s what Bugman had. He had Bugman, his own self to keep things going. A loud SOUND sounded off to his right and he careened toward it, chugging up a hill with the horsepower of a horse, sweating but not sweating if you can believe that shit! Which you can’t because it’s not a thing you’ve ever been asked to believe. What is belief? Belief is defined as HE SET UP AT THE TOP OF THE HILL, kneeling and coughing amidst Planet BugZONE’s metallic dust. It glimmered in the fading light. Distracting! He could not afford distractions. He’d made that mistake before with Bugman Prime, his partner in crime. Now he worked alone. He couldn’t recall the last time he

BACK TO THE PRESENT BUG BOYS LET’S GET THIS UNDER CONTROL NOW Bugman armed his personal artillery cannon, the Blank Stare Situation, and charged it up. Illegal but effective. What’s legal anyway? Everything on Planet BugZONE. That’s what’s so great about this. All charged up in loud wheezings. That’s just the sound it made, can’t do anything about that. Wheeze wheeze hackity-hack-attack. The sound he heard earlier: what was that? It was the SOUND SYSTEM, a devilish contraption floating thirty meters away and laying waste to the landscape, spinning like a spiked disc thrown by the King! Gotta protect the land, Bugman thought without italics this time so as to minimize the distance between reader and readee.

His helmet lit up: a good sign. The best sign in fact. Nothing could be better. It meant he was winning. A communique came in through the radio transceiver receptor antenna jack: All units, prepare for _______. Static. Nothing. Prepare for what? Exactly. Nothing. Bugman was alone again, just the way he liked it.

The sun was setting. At last!!! The bugs were weakest during the false half-light of the twilight lighty lights. But unfortunately so was BUGMAN! Fuck! He needed to wrap this shit up if he was going to get any sleep and trust me this guy needed some sleep. You don’t go a full day blasting enemies into Bug Hell without needing some sleep so it’s time for singular focus. Prepare for annihilation.

Bugman absolutely let loose with the Blank Stare Situation as loud bombs cascaded into the approaching night and turned it back into day! Holy shit! Bright bombs. The bugs hated it but they couldn’t get away.

“Eat this!” hollered Bugman. It was his signature slogan and he said it because he knew the cameras were watching. Everybody loved it when he did that and you gotta play it up for the audience back home. The final bug blew up in a catastrophic eruption of failure and intrigue, loud sounds whizzin’ and zizzin’ through the air like razor blades through the air.

Suddenly it was quiet. The roar of the war was no more. BUGMAN STALKED THROUGH A FIELD OF CAPITAL LETTERS and found the wreckage of his ship, the Bugman. Its communication systems were still intact. He wondered briefly why the font had changed to italics but realized he had no time for THIS BULLSHIT. It was time to go home. He radioed the Ironic Defense Catatosis, the capital ship circling overhead and asked for a pickup.