The terminators were closing in on us. We in our dungarees torn and fades. So eighties and helpless. The megatronic machines with people under their metal skins. Hungry for a new tomorrow. Fed up with all the Wolverine's and the Power Rangers. The destitute god of a great apocalypse. Heroes of a barren utopia called humanity.
If you can't trust Elvis then who can you trust. Those sideburns. That gyration. That oh so puffy hairdo. Peanut butter and pickle. Together. Of course! How could I not have seen it. I guess that's why he's the King.
Never you mind your Michael Jackson's. He sure could dance though, couldn't he. And write catchy songs. That Thriller. Now those were some fly freaking zombies. I don't know what Spiderman would do about them. His webs would be a flying. Major movie meltdown fight scene. Lotsa thumping music. And big explosions. And always. Always saves the day.
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