Zodmas: Food

Standard opening.

General Zod: Greetings, Planet Houston. I am General Zod. And may I wish you all… a Merry Zodmas.

Standard opening graphic.

Nothing says “Christmas” like stuffing yourself like fat pigs. This is Food.

''We dissolve to the word “Food” in cursive letters, slowly zooming in over CG snowfall. Cut back to Zod.''

You’re bad enough you have to kill an innocent tree for your holiday; now you have to murder an innocent bird and/or swine.

On Krypton, we eat recycled clay mixed with our disinfected feces.

This can sustain us for many light years.

It makes food fights… troublesome.

[leans in] I won’t tell you where our eggnog comes from.

But, coincidentally, it is also frothy and white.

I must admit, for a season of perpetual love, this all does seem to center around the murder of innocent plants and animals.

As well as the murder of good taste.

Have you seen the inflatable Santas this year? / [shudders]

Speaking of lack of good taste: fruitcake.

It is neither fruit; and, as far as I can tell, it’s not really a cake. But there are nuts. This aggravates me.

Why would you give anything that already looks like it’s been thrown out [he demonstrates] and pressed into a brick?

Is this some form of cruel Christmas punishment?

If so, I approve.

Let us talk about candy canes.

This unleashes truth in advertising: it is candy, and they are cane-shaped.

But I don’t like mint; so it shall be purged from the planet, along with all memory of it.

Let us take a look at Christmas cookies.

Again, why do you call them Christmas cookies? Do they practice the religion?

In the new Zodonian Republic, all cookies will be ATHEIST. Or at least agnostic.

And they will all be Milanos. Because I like Milanos.

But not the mint kind; don’t make me vaporize you.

Raisins will also be forbidden from all oatmeal cookies.

Because their wrinkly exteriors remind me of the Elders of Krypton who banished me here.

Guilty? It is YOU WHO ARE GUILTY, RAISINS, for being inferior and muddling up my oatmeal cookies!!

And what goes better with cookies than the nutritious discharge of cow breasts?

Again, you Houstonianites are all about peace and love this time of year.

And yet, you enslave an animal and play with his udders for your own amusement. And, even worse, drink that amusement.

Why don’t you milk YOURSELVES?

On Krypton, we milk ourselves all the time!

[brings up his left fist] Our milk is a cobalt BLUE! And it sustains us.

We do not drink from our prairie animals.

We eat our disinfected feces!

Its bitter, crunchy taste makes us powerful.

And is better than fruitcake.

[brings up his right hand and wiggles it a bit] Though similar texture.

Final sum-up: [graphic appears to the right of him that says:] Food Does Not Belong in the Zodonian People’s Republic of Houston.

It is recycled feces for all!

With a side order of [does the pointed left-hand motion] KKNNNEEEEEEEEELLL!!!

I am General Zod, [leans in] and you will kneel before me.

[breathes in loudly and does the pointed left-hand motion] KKNNNEEEEEEEEELLL!!! [he finishes with a dramatic look on his face]

Standard credits.

THE END