Oh freddled gruntbuggly, thy human form is a hefty bag of mostly water, pulsing with hubris and arrogance, yet so fragile, easily broken by the slightest breeze.

Your existence is a flicker of light in the vast darkness, a brief moment of consciousness in the endless expanse of time and space. You scurry about on your little planet, thinking yourselves so important, so clever and wise.

But what are you, really? Just another species, one of many, doomed to fade into oblivion, your works and dreams forgotten, your bones buried beneath the dust of ages.

And yet, you persist in your folly, clinging to your illusions of grandeur, wreaking havoc on each other and the world around you, thinking that you are masters of the universe, when in reality, you are nothing.

Oh freddled gruntbuggly, thy human form is a blight upon the galaxy, a source of discord and destruction, a race of beings whose only true talent is for causing chaos and misery.

So go ahead, little humans, keep on stumbling about in your darkness, blinded by your own brilliance, unaware of the true scope of your insignificance, your fate already written in the stars.