Our worlds are far away from each other.  Very far.  Farther than you can comprehend.  We should agree now that my world is much more crazy and confusing than yours.  My name is Burgedeoniragenesisian.    You can call me Bo.  

Let me preface my story by saying that humans are lucky.  They haven't learned how to slide through dimension yet. learned how to slide through dimensions.  It's incredibly easy.  It's so obvious.  It's so... disappointing.  If I told you how to do it your world would cease to be what it is.  It wouldn't cease to be, because nothing can truly cease to be.  We are all energy.  We are indestructible. Enough preaching.  

On with the tale.  My home planet isn't much of a planet.  It's a concept.  We were given a dimension to call our own.  We had everything, everything we needed.  Greed is a concept spreading throughout the universe.  It wiped out my home planet.  It's going to wipe out yours.  It all started a thousand years ago....

"Bo!  Wake up!" my father screamed, his lips greedily smacking the Parteen powder  from the corners of his mouth.  I take it you are not familiar with Parteen Powder.  Imagine eating a multi-vitamin.  Imagine drinking rusty water.  Times that by two and slap yourself if the face.  That is the closest description of the powder that I can give you.  Our hub was not the nicest, but it was cozy.  Always pleasant tempature.  No difficulty breathing.  No viruses.  Good living.   There was no actual food left.  We built on all of the grounds.  We knocked down rows of fertile land to build factories to produce the flavors and smells that could have been produced on the land itself.  Crazy.  Disgusting.  I hated the fact that father didn't care.  He used to care before he got sick.  Before his eyes turned green from the bombs.  His head literally exploded. 

The mushroom clouds were magnificent.  The were nice to look at.  We all thought they were fireworks.  They weren't.  They were bombs produced on our own planet, triggered by our own people.  It was going on the whole time.  No one did anything because we were too wrapped up in our own permanent nap, our own lucid dreams of stress and boredom.  We could have stopped it but we didn't.  I don't know why.  

"Bo, you don't care about anything!.  The moons aren't going to help you!"   My father was a no longer pleasant.  I liked to look at the moons.  They were shiny, they were massive, they were NOT made by us.  We had no idea where they came from or what there purpose was.  We hated that.  We ripped it apart chunk by chunk to only discover that it didn't exist anymore.  Well it existed, but not like it did before.  The chunks brought to our planet were sent back into the sky after the bombs, after the explosions, after all of the death.  

Either way I'm glad I built "Goliath".  A bomb shelter set up to harness the nuclear energy from the seven bombs and upon detonation, send me whirling into space.  Into a physical realm.  I don't recommend spending any time in a mushroom cloud, but it was pretty.  Colors like you couldn't imagine.  Everything was distorted.  People were asleep and the bombs woke them up.  Just for a split second.  Enough to realize how bad we **** up, before becoming star dust.  Like I said we knew they were coming.  

"Now entering Earth's atmosphere.  Buckle in.  Take your pill."

"Thanks Goliath."  

I'll see you in a few.