Somewhere within the city, a bar stood cocooned in layers dirt and rock and bits of flaming crashed spaceship, having been untouched by the alien menace. The reason for this, of course, was that it was currently being defended by an altogether different alien menace, one that was sent to cleanse the planet of sapient life- or at least attempt to cleanse it, from the hours of 9 AM to 5 PM, local time. Currently, said alien menace was off the clock and on his eighth beer.

"...So I'm jus' standin' there and these dumb mutherfuggers keep shootin' their lighting a' me an I'm like 'Wha's wrong bisch, can' bypass a li'l lightnin' rod?'. 'Course, they couldn' unnerstan, since they were some kinda [url=http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BgONr09asDk/VH4m8kom91I/AAAAAAAAAgE/86QvviCdLoA/s1600/lightning%2Blad01.jpg]dumb fuggen elephan' things[/url] an' then I was like BAM!", he smashed a peanut, sending little bits of shell all over the bar, "Smash those bassars like they was NOTHIN. An' tha- an' tha' was how I killed th lightnin' beasts.", Cartog the Surveyor, Interstellar Exterminator, soon-to-be Scourge of Mankind, chugged the rest of his beer, "BARTENNER, ANOTHER A' YER PRIMITIVE HUMAN YEAST BEV- BEVER- DRINKS."
[color=8dc73f]"Any brand, or-"[/color]
"I CARE NOT FOR THESE PUNY 'BRANDS' YOU SPEAK OF."

A cheap lager slid its way down the bar, the screw-cap undone by Cartog's PHENOMENAL PSYCHIC POWERS.
"So yeh, where was I- fuggen, right, so affer tha' I got a contrac ta kill off summa them- [url=http://covers.cbrd.info/character_36867_f.jpg]I think ya call 'em Mechtaleks[/url]. Now my people and the Mechtaleks, we got hissory with tha ugly terraforman' bassars..."