On your planet, I am known as Mike Napoli, Baseball Player. On others, B'ristle the Beserker, The Harried Horror, or The Bearded Bringer of Death. And those are just the ones I can repeat in front of your children.

I have traveled eons and cosmos to come to your land and destroy baseballs. Yes, I may lead the league in pitches per plate appearance with 4.49, but that’s just me teasing you and your weak people. Did you actually think a mere curveball could defeat me? Or my beard?

Once, while drunk on moonshine, actual liquor made in a crater on the moon (alcohol content: 1,000,000%), I passed out and a group of wandering Space Bears tried to attack me. My beard, of its own accord, lifted a mighty space barrel and bludgeoned them to death. I had galactic bacon the next morn.



I have traveled the stars, I have destroyed entire solar systems with my mighty swing, wiped out burgeoning societies with a whisper. Your silly sport is nothing more than a diversion for me while my fur-covered face makes your Earth women lose all interest in Earth Men. In two generations, your pathetic race shall be wiped out, your population dwindling as all sexual expression grinds to a halt.

So look upon me and gaze with wonder. And then beg for the mercy that will never come.

I am Mike Napoli and his beard.