Greetings Space Brothers:
Help! My birth state, California, here on Earth, has been captured by a killer cyborg from the future. He is cleverly disguised as heavily muscled, deeply tanned man.
I’m sure that he can snap the spine of a normal human with a flick of his neutronium hand. He just may start to do so, right after he buids his nest in the Governor’s mansion, with his stepford bride at his side. I fear that he will soon begin issuing kill orders to our toasters and automobiles.
Perhaps my parents should have a high-powered laser trained on the microwave, just in case.
Granted, being ruled by killer cyborgs just may be marginally better than being ruled by a ruthless, avaricious, reptilloid from Zeta-Reticulus. Don’t tell me you didn’t know. There is no other explanation for the soon to be ex-governor.
So, Guardians of Space, please watch over us. If you happen to notice killer armies of robotic monstrocities streaming out of Sacramento, even if they happen to be wearing grey flannel suits, please don’t hesitate. Use the doomsday device. The future depends upon it. Save us from ourselves.