"Minimalist Marvin stared at the cylinder in front of him. Atop the podium he had taken from the ruins of the white house after Googly George, Ned flix and Tweety Teddy mind washed the human race into extinction was a cylinder with a round headed gentleman on it. The appearance of this man disgusted him. He had too many colors, too much shading and too many distinct features. Marvin knew what he must do. In his mind, he recalled every second of his training. This was his chance, the moment he had been preparing for for his whole life. He thought to himself *struggle grind shine...* and then Marvin shook the pedestal with pure seething hatred in his eyes! Screaming as he violently jostled it back and forth. The cylinder toppled over, rolling off it's invincible perch and onto the ground where it was vulnerable. "You think you're cool tough guy? Coming into my house looking like that." The cylinder said nothing, the painted eyes on it's surface having no discernible emotion. "So that's how you want it to be huh?" Marvin stomped the tube with raw murderous passion, stomping the abominable face with his big fancy boots over and over again until it was a ruined pile of crumbs and broken cardboard. "Fuck you" Marvin spat on the remains, satisfied with what he had done."