“Your species will make perfect slaves for our dung mines!” gloats Kor-Guu, the giant purple space beetle, wielding a glinting dagger in one hairy insect claw. “Come out and fight, you frail little thing. Let survival of the fittest decide this planet’s fate!”
The old man clutching a wooden staff bravely stands his ground. “You fiend!” he shrieks. “We’ll fight you to the bitter end!”
“Do you have any children?” the old man thunders as Kor-Guu leans in for the kill.
Flustered, the beetle confesses he has none.
“Well, in that case, Kor-Guu, I win,” his adversary declares. “I may be an old fellow, but I’ve had several children. Evolutionary fitness isn’t a measure of physical prowess, you chitinous cretin. It’s an index of reproductive success. In fact, until we hear the pitter-patter of baby Kor-Guus, your fitness will remain a big, fat zero.”
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