Its a sunny day in the grand German city of Stuttgart. At present it is the holiday season so Daniel and his three friends- Tim, Aaron, and Jean- are strolling around in the park, enjoying the rare perfect weather. The sun has burned through the few morning clouds, leaving the sky empty, thus the park is filled with picnickers, bikers, etc.
I have been waiting my entire trip to Germany to use my power and finally Im ready. After searching through the other European cities for the perfect scene to rampage I am eager to commence the fun part. Everything has already been arranged down to the minutest detail. My cave is completely set up, and there is nothing which could possibly go wrong.
I feel power coursing through my muscles, a warming sensation in my gut, and nothing else. Soon I am 700 meters tall, in the middle of a busy street, knocking over building as if they were Legos every time I move for a better view of my new playground. Yet destruction is not my intent. I'm after one thing and one thing only: Germany has positively the sweetest, tastiest young men in the world. They're like the most delicious, savory deserts- true delicacies in the world of boy-eaters. I take a giant tarp which had been covering a building being renovated, and, using it as a sack, stomp towards the park: where there are always succulent youths. I ignore the cars and pedestrians: none are interesting because none are my ideal prey. They are ground into bloody pulp and debris beneath my gigantic, sweaty feet, each the size of vans.
I have been waiting my entire trip to Germany to use my power and finally Im ready. After searching through the other European cities for the perfect scene to rampage I am eager to commence the fun part. Everything has already been arranged down to the minutest detail. My cave is completely set up, and there is nothing which could possibly go wrong.
I feel power coursing through my muscles, a warming sensation in my gut, and nothing else. Soon I am 700 meters tall, in the middle of a busy street, knocking over building as if they were Legos every time I move for a better view of my new playground. Yet destruction is not my intent. I'm after one thing and one thing only: Germany has positively the sweetest, tastiest young men in the world. They're like the most delicious, savory deserts- true delicacies in the world of boy-eaters. I take a giant tarp which had been covering a building being renovated, and, using it as a sack, stomp towards the park: where there are always succulent youths. I ignore the cars and pedestrians: none are interesting because none are my ideal prey. They are ground into bloody pulp and debris beneath my gigantic, sweaty feet, each the size of vans.