Freedom at Last!
The Grand-Chancellor of Thumor looked upon the small, scraggly human, the last of his species, as the lights poured down harshly upon his balding head, highlighting his drab attire and poor skin, and the alien laughed those grand full laughs that never speak of anything but irony and criticism.
The man looked full at him,unflinching.
The Grand-Chancellor of Thumor continued to laugh until his three lungs all hurt from the effort and his long, thin tongue had time to form the English words of finality to the pathetic excuse for a man in a language he would be able to understand and know of his terrible defeat at the hands of the most magnificent Thumor Chanixor Army.
“You are beaten, Earthling, and have lost all the precious freedom your race so keenly aspired to, and I ask,”What say you?”.
The elderly man, rubbing the top of his bald head as if for luck, responded that “There is always a choice and that marks the path of freedom” as his thumb pushed the hidden button on his watch and a small, but powerful signal pounded its way through the planet, activating all 12,568 nuclear missiles with no chance of being shut down; he smiled.