Locked in a room with thirty thousand bugs,

Their wriggling legs make my skin crawl and tug,

The earwigs are everywhere, on walls and on floors,

I feel trapped and helpless, with no open doors.

Their pincers twitch and antennae wave,

I try to stay calm, but feel like a slave,

To their endless movements, their eerie sound,

My fear intensifies, I'm hopelessly bound.

In the far future, Humanity is a member of a unified galactic government made up of a variety of sentient races. Comprised of trillions of citizens, the bloated government is so weighed down by bureaucracy and a myriad of internal problems, that change happens very slowly, while small and seemingly mundane issues are handled with seriousness and put through a pan-galactic vote that takes years to count.

In 1022 AF (After Formation), a race of teddy-like aliens called the Ishudavores, who can change their species’ color every 10 years, asks the galaxy to vote on which color they should go with, with this year’s choices being Lavender and Rust. Despite being a relatively tiny issue, the vote is nonetheless treated as seriously as a galactic election, and great effort and media coverage is brought to both sides of the vote. The “1022 color change” soon becomes a dominant topic that is sensationalized in the media all throughout the galaxy, and election fever becomes inescapable.

Kelly Herald, a top campaigner for the Lavender camp, is sent with the campaign ship, the Headline, to the Lagoon Nebula in an attempt to gain support for their color.

(Written as a political satire that comments on how sensational politics in American have gotten.)

Your buns, squashed and soggy

the flavor that were trying to evoke, vague and foggy

your pickles sour and meat but a sliver

so full of salt, that you made my heart quiver

a better choice, I should have made

for this was not worth the calorie trade

A food as oily as dry skin ointment

you are the very epitome of disappointment.