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They're pregnant. They're MAD.
They're giant white ping-pong balls,
Big as canteloupes.
Jacques Cousteau lies dead,
Prone in a pink diving suit.
What will happen now?!
My God, they're angry!
The ping-pong balls attack him,
They tear his dead flesh.
Well, they want revenge!
You can stop looking so shocked!
Of COURSE they're hungry!
Your questions irk them.
They might just come after YOU.
Yes, that's right, you dolt.
Bow to their goddess,
Xen, or face their razor-teeth!
Time is running out . . . .